


The Language of Flowers

by Lady_of_Inklings



Series: The Language of Flowers [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Developing Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, High amounts of pining, I'm a sucker for angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Political Intrigue, Some Humor, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, a couple of romantic subplots, but i live for the fluff, maybe two...or.....three...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 15:58:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 126,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12193062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Inklings/pseuds/Lady_of_Inklings
Summary: The prophecy that Yuuri had received the day he was born haunted him most of his life. It's one thing to have a unique soulmark but it's another to have a morbid prophecy detailing your death. Taking a leap of faith, Yuuri leaves his homeland, determined to take his destiny into his own hands. Little did he know that fate had different plans in the form of a silver-haired prince..........





	1. Red Chrysanthemums and Blue Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This is my first (Viktuuri) fanfiction on Archive of Our Own. I've been working on this for quite sometime and recently with a little push from my friend's, I decided to post it.  
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Suggested Songs:  
> 'DNA' - BTS  
> 'Take it All' - Ruelle

It was a cool morning when Yuuri woke due to the burning sensation over his heart. 

He lifted his shirt to find his markings, a small cluster of blue roses danced over his heart petals drifting towards his collarbone, standing starkly against his pale skin. Yuuri recognized the blue flowers from the books in his father's study, blue roses were known to be the rarest of all flowers. Yuuri snuck in and read the books on soul flowers so that the day he received his soulmarks, he'd know exactly what they would mean. 

Every flower had a meaning and as Yuuri looked down at his, he wondered what this meant for him and his soulmate. 

Blue roses didn't have a clear meaning, after all.

The burning lingered, Yuuri lifted his shirt up a little more. His eyes widened as he ran his fingers over the red markings that mingled into the cluster of blue roses. Red Chrysanthemum, the slender petals of the seal of his family, was cradled amongst the roses. 

He had poked it a few times just to see if it was real, to see if nobody had snuck into his room and painted it on him as a cruel practical joke.

When he decided that it was indeed real, it was that moment that he truly started to panic. 

Soulmarks were no big issue, everyone had them. Only, most people had only one flower bloom onto their skin rather than two and Yuuri wasn't taking the new development very well. 

He knew that this wasn't a good thing but why he was yet to learn. 

"Mama!" Yuuri cried as he entered the Queens chambers. Usually, he would come in announced properly by the guards but this was an emergency and the guards had no reason to stop him from barging in so suddenly.

"Yuuri," Hiroko cooed as soon as she saw her youngest with tears in his eyes and his cheeks flushed red. She stepped away from her desk and immediately gathered him into her arms, cradling him amongst the silks she wore. "What's the matter, Yuuri?" She asked as she rubbed circles on his back.

Once Yuuri stopped crying did he finally answer the question, he lifted up his shirt showing her the soul marks that had appeared that morning. A fresh wave of tears spilt from his eyes as his mother didn't say anything. The Queen had wasted no time and sent a guard to immediately fetch the King and one of her advisors.

The King entered the chambers as suddenly as his son followed by their advisor, Lady Minako. Mari wasn't too far behind, preferring to abandon her dancing lesson for the afternoon in favour for the drama.

"Toshiya," The Queen breathed as she saw her husband, relief and sadness flowing through her as she hugged Yuuri closer. "It's happened. By the gods, it happened."

"Hiroko," The King sighed, bringing both his son and wife into his arms. "As long as I live, nothing will happen to Yuuri."

"But the prophecy----" Lady Minako started.

"We have time," the king said sternly, cutting her off. "The prophecy doesn't come to pass until his twenty-fourth birthday."

"Prophecy?" Yuuri asked, only to be ignored by the three adults in the room.

"Your Majesty," Lady Minako stated equally stern. "With all due respect, it is not wise to ignore prophecies. The Prince may be young but that doesn't mean that we can't prepare for the future."

"What are you saying, Minako?" The Queen asked.

Lady Minako took a deep breath knowing that her idea, though it was a good one (in her opinion), would not sit well with the King or Queen. It was a risky gamble but if it paid off then it would well be worth it in the end. Afterall, nothing was written in stone. Prophecies were known to be incredibly aloof but not meant to be dismissed entirely. There were always loopholes that presented themselves in odd ways.

This was the least convoluted plan she could think of. 

"Whatever or whoever is the threat to Yuuri's life, we prepare Yuuri to face it," she said and a soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew they were going to object. "I know! But this is for his own good. Do you really think just locking him away will do him any good at all?! Do you really think you can stop him when he's older?!"

Yuuri looked up at his teacher and his parents, head swivelling back and forth, not really understanding what they meant. He was only scared of the fact that he had a soul mark with two different flowers on them. He could already hear Takeshi making fun of him already, soon he could feel a new wave of tears brimming. Yuuri buried his face into the shoulder of his mother robes.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked, his voice cracking just slightly, muffled his mother's shoulder. 

The three adults stopped arguing to look down at Yuuri suddenly remembering his presence. Mari grabbed her brother's hand, giving it a light squeeze, comforting him. 

"Oh, Yuuri." Hiroko sighed dejectedly as she petted his raven hair. She felt the tightened grip of despair clutch her heart. She could still close her eyes and see the green-eyed hag that delivered those fateful words--the words that had turned their perfect world upside down. "You did nothing wrong. Nothing at all........"

 

 

 

Viktor could feel the burning sensation on his back all afternoon and well into the night. He thought that it had something to do with training earlier today, he had been pushing himself more than usual.

With his sixteenth birthday around the corner, most of his focus had been turned towards more intense training sessions as well as longer hours in the library with his tutors and advisors. The paperwork in his study hadn't given him any mercy either as the stacks of official documents grew, mirroring the number of extra responsibilities he'd accumulated.

He didn't mind it, to be honest. Viktor actually welcomed it. 

Yakov's words resonated in his mind from earlier; 'If one of to be a king then he must fight like a king.'

Whatever those words meant but he assumed it was a vague thing Yakov told his father once upon a time too.

He tossed onto his side once more, frowning slightly as he glared at the wall. Finally, during some ungodly hour of the night (or morning, it was hard to tell) Viktor took off his shirt, tossing it to the side to soothe some of the irritating on his back. Standing up he walked towards the mirror, staring at it as he turned around to observe his back. The muscles in his neck strained as he craned to take a look only to capture a glimpse of what had been causing him so much discomfort.

He froze, his eyes widening. 

At first, he was pleasantly surprised to see a glimpse of the blue roses that covered his shoulder but soon his elation turned to disbelief and then fretting as he caught sight of the red flowers that accompanied the roses. It could've been a trick in the dimly light chambers or maybe a product of his sleep-addled mind. He glanced in the mirror just to make sure before he grabbed his shirt from the floor, not even bothering to put on his shoes as he exited the room rushing directly to his parent's chambers.

"Mama! Papa!" Viktor yelled as he barged into the rooms, the guards let him pass as they stared at his frantic eyes, unruly silver hair, and bare feet. They were mostly in shock due to how panicked he looked. 

"Viktor," he could already hear the edge in his father voice as he sat up in bed. "It is an ungodly hour. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning I'm sure."

"It can't!" Viktor exclaimed. 

Viktor stripped off dressing gown, decency be damned, as he turned off to expose the newly formed soul marks, the burning had finally stopped meaning that it had fully formed. He heard the rustle of the silks as they moved and the frantic voice of his mother as she tossed on her dressing gown.

The next few hours had been frantic as his father and mother summoned their advisors to their chambers immediately. Viktor had been forced to sit in a chair, told not to move until Yakov got there. 

Yakov had been the first to arrive with his wife, Lillia. Nikolai had arrived not too soon after.

It was a blur from there on out but when Viktor looked back to that moment, he could clearly remember how shocked and surprised the others were about his marks. He felt a sense of shame even though he didn't really know why. 

When morning came, Viktor could only watch as his parents signed an official royal decree that was to pass before Parliament later that day. He could only nod and mumble as his mother laid out most of the details, his father had made sure that Viktor was somehow involved even though it didn't really matter.

'The law,' He retained, bitterly, 'It's always come down to that stupid law. I knew it!' 

He had heard stories of people finally receiving their soul marks. Some had been joyous over the fact while some felt saddened while other merely dismissed it as nothing more. Viktor didn't feel anything, like the burning sensation, the excitement of his mark had faded and now was replaced by a burning realization that he would never get to meet his soulmate. He had two flowers weaving down his back rather than a single one. 

Was that a good thing or a bad thing? 

He didn't know, he was tired and emotionally drained.

His mother had reassured him that it was rare, the gods wouldn't be cruel enough to not give him someone. He nodded mutely, shrugging it off. 

At the moment he was too exhausted to speak up about it but one thing was certain: Victors life as the crown prince had certainly become more complicated.


	2. Cyclamen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyclamen: Resignation and goodbye
> 
> Recommended songs:  
> 'Are You Satisfied?' - Mariana and the Diamonds  
> 'Oceans' - Seafret

A full moon rose into the sky on Yuuri's eighteenth birthday, it reflected on the still waters of the gardens below his balcony. It was just him, the cold early morning breeze, and the moon which hung in the sky openly mocking him for being up at an ungodly hour of the morning instead of getting some well needed rest for the banquet. He couldn't help but feel that it was a bad omen. Maybe it was good but with his luck, it could very well be bad. He wasn't the most optimistic person. The night was chilly with the wind creeping through the castle, settling into his room and through his blanket. Vichan was too little to provide any warmth. 

Being an earth elemental did little to warm someone on a cold night. Sometimes Yuuri wished he had inherited a penchant for fire instead of earth on a night like this. Yuuri slipped away from the balcony, closing the doors as silent as he could before he slipped underneath the covers and screwed his eyes tight, hoping to get some sleep so he wouldn't look _too_ tired in the morning.

Yuuri tossed onto his side, facing away from the moon as he stared at the darkened corners of his mind. Today would bring not only most of the Lords and Lady's of the eight islands but their daughters and sons as well.

He groaned, tossing once again as he clutched the covers closer.

Up until now, his birthdays consisted of the royal family hosting a private celebration and with Yuuri being served a bowl of Katsudon that his mother made by hand. This year, however, would be different. The celebration not only celebrated the fact that the second prince of Oyashima had reached his eighteenth year but the fact that he was also of 'marriageable' age.

_Joy._

Yuuri was not his sister, Mari was strong and fierce with the good qualities of a future monarch, and his parents didn't expect him to be; they wanted Yuuri to be Yuuri. They loved him as they loved Mari but the fact remained that Yuuri was the second prince meaning that his hand would most likely be handed off to someone to secure a political alliance that Oyashima would one day need.

Oyeshima may have been rapidly developing beyond the large walls of the royal palace that laid at the heart of the capital city but that didn't mean that they were on par with Western nations (yet) who had been humbled enough to assist them in their rapid modernization.

The night had not been easy on Yuuri, the dark circles manifested underneath his eyes as he climbed out of bed that morning. He slipped on his dressing gown just before Minami walked in with his breakfast, bowing before he set the tray down.

Minami was much younger than Yuuri from a village on one of the smaller islands. His attitude reminded Yuuri of an excited puppy. Of course, he would never dismiss Minami, the young boy had been as faithful as he had been helpful for as long as Yuuri could remember. Plus, Yuuri liked having someone around to talk to and Minami, not surprisingly, loved doing just that. It was no secret that the young boy had something akin to admiration and a deep respect when it came to Yuuri. 

Vichan yawned, stretching as he smelled the scent of breakfast. He left the spot near Yuuri's pillow, yapping excitingly as Minami scratched the little dog behind his ears before slipping him a treat from the sleeves of his robe. 

"Happy eighteenth birthday, my lord!" Minami beamed, looking up from Vichan.

"Thank you, Minami-kun," Yuuri said, trying his best to not show the tiredness in his eyes. He tried to suppress a yawn to no avail.

Several attendants had stumbled in as Yuuri ate breakfast, each one of them handpicked by the Queen to make Yuuri presentable for today. One scrubbed Yuuri down with scented oils while one worked on his face, applying pastes and herbal essences. He was later dressed in a blue silken Yukata with silver embroidery gifted to him by his sister that made him glow. His hair swept back, making him look much older and mature. Yuuri only stared into the mirror, his glasses replaced by a spell that would give him temporary near perfect eyesight. He looked like a prince.

Regal. Poised. _Exquisite._

"Nobody will able to look away from his majesty," One of the attendants cooed as she observed her handiwork.

"And neither would the foreign representatives!" Minami exclaimed.

A flash of annoyance crossed Yuuri's features, he couldn't help it but he was quick to hide it. Minami looked around sheepishly in the mirror, Yuuri smiled, a little forced, to console his younger friend. Yuuri knew that Minami meant well with his compliments, it wasn't his fault but Yuuri felt that feeling from earlier creeps up his throat. It was only years and years of breathing exercise and experience that kept him from hyperventilating.

In the past decade alone, the nation of Oyashima had undergone a variety of changes mainly influenced by several Western nations. His parents had been more open to the new technology and ideas that the previous King had been. The past two decades were a decade of Oyashima establishing that it indeed could be a modernized country like the western nations. Most of the nobility had felt like that it would undermine their power but once the royal family adopted western cultures and fused it successfully with their ancient traditions did only they calm down. A small percentage had been opposed to the rapid modernization of Oyashima but they had been quickly silenced.

Nobody knows what happened to that small majority but it was an all-around agreement that nobody would comment on it.

Some of the foreign powers had been more than helpful in the speedy modernization while others wanted to turn it into a colony for their benefit. Since Oyashima had been recognized along with several eastern nations, the western nations had no choice but to acknowledge the east as a major player in the game. Most had sent representatives and ambassadors to Oyashima for the celebration of Yuuri's birthday in a show of goodwill.

Yuuri knew the other reason why many representatives had invited themselves to the banquet; _Marriage_.

Many of the noble houses had been miffed at the idea of foreigners, royal or not, sharing a seat in the banquet hall. Not only did that make them feel smaller but it also meant that Yuuri's hand could go to a western heir for the sake of an alliance rather than some Oyeshiman noble's daughter or son. Yuuri could only laugh at the irony of the noblemen presenting their daughters to him, it wasn't their fault that they tried to goad Yuuri into a marriage that was set up to fail. He had his preferences but could do nothing if the nobles tried to ignore it. Thankfully, his mother was there to turn the young ladies down.

"You have that look on your face," Mari said later at the doors of the banquet halls.

"What look?" Yuuri said as he smoothed back his hair, trying not to ruin the strands that had been carefully combed back. "This is my usual look."

"That look." She poked his cheek with a mischevious smile.

The both of them were dressed in the finest of clothes, not only was Yuuri being presented but so was Mari as the future Empress of Oyeshima. He couldn't help but admired the red kimono that she wore with peacocks and flowers adorning it in gold, feeling that he paled next to his sister. Small ruby pins had been tucked into her hair to keep it up, bringing the whole look together perfectly, as red pigments were streaked across her eyes in a manner that made her look every bit sharp as she did regal. 

Anybody would've been envious of them.

"Mother and Father won't force your hand, Yuuri," She said as she slipped her hand around his, giving it a squeeze like she did when they were children. "We know what the prophecy says but-"

"Can we not talk about that?" He asked, tersely. 

"Right, sorry."

"I'm sorry," Yuuri apologized, wringing his hands. "I'm nervous. I can't shake this feeling, Mari. What if I end up ruining this? What if I offend someone accidentally or I spill my drink on someone's suit or---!"

"Yuuri," Mari sighed. She grabbed him by the shoulders, turning him around so that he faced her. She waved away her attendants as she watched her little brother. Yuuri's eyes were darting around, afraid to meet his sisters.

The struggle of preventing a morbid prophecy had fallen onto Yuuri's shoulders at a young age. Mari saw how he had to fight and learn and fall over and over in order to prepare himself for the day that he would have to face his enemy. The fact that his soulmate was the one to kill him had left Yuuri with a fragile heart that was encased in steel that could easily crumble. It hurt Mari as well as their parents to see Yuuri grow up as he did, nobody should be allowed a fate like that.

"Yuuri," she repeated again in a softer tone, her grip on his shoulders loosening. Her hands gripped his, keeping his on the ground. "I know it's difficult for you and I know that me telling you to calm down won't help but I want you to know that you won't be alone in there. I'll be right there next to you."

He nodded and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in and out as Mari spoke softly to him. Minutes later he opened his eyes, a new sense of determination and fire could be seen.

 _'That's my little brother,'_ she thought, proudly.

"Ready?" Mari asked as she stepped away from her brother. She gave his hand one last squeeze before nodding at the guards to open the doors.

"Ready."

The faint sound of fanfare could be heard behind the thick doors as Yuuri readied himself. Mari glanced at him, smiling slightly just before the doors swung open.

For a minute Yuuri forgot how to breathe as the sea of faces overwhelmed him momentarily. There were so many people, they may not have had camera or shouted countless questions at him but they still looked daunting. If it wasn't for the fact that Mari was already moving, Yuuri would've stayed in place. He stepped forward, his face neutral, and the lord and ladies bowed down on either side of him as he passed by, every bit a prince of Oyashima that was presented to them. The procession to the banquet table felt like it had been stretched a mile and Yuuri's legs felt like gelatin by the time he bowed to his parents.

There were several speeches made by lords he had not know and many gifts are given by the foreign representatives on behalf of their respective monarchs.

One gift was a pair of ice skates given to him by Sir Nikolai Plisetsky of Kievan, it was a gift from one of the princes. Another gift had been a blue scarf made of the softest material he had ever felt from Count Celestino of Calabria. The last gift he had accepted was several books on herbology and apothecary from a rich merchant that had connections to the Queen of Helvetia.

Yuuri kept a neutral yet present smile on his face as most of the banquet attendees proceeded to get drunk from there on. Mari had a few sips of alcohol before she disappeared with her handmaidens to proceed to get properly drunk behind closed doors. She whispered her birthday wishes into his ear before slipping away, giggling as she followed a girl in a pretty green and purple kimono. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his mother trying to take the cup of sake away from his father who smiled happily who may have been a little more than drunk. She waved away the servants as she spoke in a firm yet docile tones. The last time he had gotten drunk was during Mari's twentieth birthday, that had been a......fun night.

He pushed his cup away and excused himself to find a quiet place to think before he accidentally overindulged.

The best place he could find was a small bench by the corner outside that overlooked the garden. He was easily tucked away by prying eyes, only the plants judged him here/

The flowers had reacted immediately to Yuuri, turning their bright faces away from the moon and to Yuuri, they learned in as Yuuri gently touched them. His fingers were like butterfly wings, almost weightless. The peonies seemed to like him the best, as well did the camillas. The lilies were a little more hesitant to trust him.

It was a quiet day with a breeze floating past presently. He couldn't help but let his eyes travel up the walls of the palace, the guards were distracted by the banquets and nobody would really notice if the crown prince had disappeared for a bit. The temptation of leaving had been a bit of a tough subject with him, the idea of leaving Oyashima had been something he had been mulling over for almost a year.

He would miss the comfortable smell of flowers drifting through the palace and the inviting sound of the sea. He would miss Mari, his parents and Vicchan. He had barely had the poodle for a couple of years and he would have to leave his companion behind. His home would always have a place in his heart but he longed for what laid beyond the borders of his kingdom.

It wasn't like it was a bad idea.

If Yuuri was going to be married off to some foreign prince then shouldn't he know more about foreign lands. It was one thing to read out of a book but another thing to experience them. Regardless of what his family said, many others had separate opinions on how his future would shape up to be. Inside, he knew that it was the right thing to do by accepting a political marriage.

It was practicle. 

But the thing was that Yuuri didn't want to get married, love and romance had been on his mind ever since he learned about that cursed prophecy. 

He wanted to learn more, see more, travel more. Yuuri was an earth elemental, plants responded naturally to him. It was only fitting that he developed a curiosity about them. Oyeshima had taught him everything he had to know about apothecary and botany but he wanted to know more and that was only possible by travelling west.

His parents would be hesitant about the idea of him leaving but he had a feeling they would say yes in the end. He hadn't spent the past eight years training for nothing; diplomacy, various forms of martial arts as well as subjects, and dancing had to be worth something at the very least!

"You're thinking about it again, aren't you?" Someone asked him. He recognized the voice, not bothering to turn around.

"Am I really that easy to read?" Yuuri asked, irritated.

Minako crept out of the shadows where she stood and sat down next to Yuuri, the purple silken robes of her kimono fanned elegantly across the grass. Peach blossoms decorating the hem, drifting upwards and branching out to make a delicate pattern across the purple fabric, stopping midway to the yellow obi around her waist. Her sleeves billowed outwards, nearly knocking Yuuri onto the flowers. Her hair was shaped up into an elegant updo held together with flower pins that brought her whole outfit together and highlighted her eyes which stared at Yuuri knowingly. 

Most people would consider not addressing any member of the royal family without a title as rude or ill-mannered but Minako had been a part of Yuuri's life for so long that such formalities meant nothing to him.

The flowers scattered back their spots, some turning just to give Minako what Yuuri assumed a dirty look before turning to face the moon again. He could sense their agitation, he reached out calming them down. The flowers responded, wrapping themselves around his fingers as he squatted near them. They continued to face to moon but they were much calmer.

"So I was right?"

"About what?"

"About wanting to leave," she said with a smile on her face. "I could convince your parents to say yes, you know?"

"It's not that. I know they'll say yes," Yuuri said. He frowned, his mind wandering back to this morning. "It's the prophecy."

"Ah, yes." Minako drawled, her expression flat. She didn't look surprised at all. "That little _complication._ "

"I can't help wonder if the gods hate me enough to give me such a cruel fate?" He scoffed. "I mean, who receives a prophecy that says they're going to be killed by their own soulmate?!"

Minako didn't say anything as Yuuri looked at the palace wall longingly. She felt for him, she really did but she was wise enough to know not to pity him. He didn't need her pity and he never asked for it, only her support and her knowledge. Despite how Yuuri was and the anxiety the never ceased inside his head, he was a stronger person than most people realized.

She would know. She did oversee his training. Minako had some responsibility in shaping the young man before her. He did have his doubts and insecurities but that was Yuuri, only he could figure out how to silence them. He could never get rid of those things, only control them Minako could only do so much but she would still be proud of the young man that had become like a surrogate son to her.

"We all know that your soulmate isn't in Oyashima," Yuuri gave her look as if to say she was stating the obvious. She placed a finger to his lips before he could say anything else. "But, should that be a reason for you to spend the rest of your life here? What's the point of me teaching you everything I know if you don't go out and apply yourself, Yuuri? You and I both know you want more than this. So does your family. They aren't blind, you know?"

Yuuri looked up from the ground, snapping his eyes to meet his teachers who blinked her eyes lazily. She wasn't wrong, he knew that she wanted what was best for him but that nagging feeling in his head refused to silence itself.

"I want to see the world, Minako-sensei," He admitted to his teacher. The words tumbled out of his mouth. "There's so much I can do and I can't do it from here. I know I'm safe here but at the same time, I'm useless here. I really do want more."

Minako placed her hand on his shoulder. A motherly gesture that he had learned to associate with her. 

"If that's how you feel then I have an idea if you want to hear it."

The banquet had ended as soon as the Queen felt like it was getting out of hand. Despite the grumbles of the nobles (who were half drunk at this point) the kingdom of Oyashima still had a reputation to maintain in front of several foreign representatives.

Yuuri retired back to his room much later than he wanted to, several of the nobles had insistently introduced their sons and daughters to him in a futile attempt to get him to warm up to them. If it wasn't for Minami who had swept in and announced that his mother was expecting him, he would've surely ended up snapping at someone. It didn't matter if it was his birthday, people should understand that Yuuri was human too and he hated when people encroached into his space.

Servants bowed as Yuuri passed through the hallways congratulating him, he smiled and thanked them as he made his way to his parent's chambers with Minami in tow who gushed excitingly about the various people at the banquet. He listened patiently, soaking in all the information.

"I'll leave you here, your majesty," Minami chirped. "Happy birthday once again!"

"Thank you and goodnight, Minami-kun."

When Minami turned the corner, he nodded towards the guards to let him through. The doors swung open and Yuuri stepped forward with his head held high as he greeted both his parents that were seated at the Kotatsu with a foreign man next to them that was talking loudly, waving his hands around wildly as he spoke. Yuuri had grown up an ear for some western languages but he had a hard time placing the man's accent. His time frequenting the docks did little to help.

He bowed to his parents before taking his seat next to Minako. Mari had yet to be seen but he had a strong feeling that she was in the courtyard with the other nobles enjoying the fireworks display.

Minako was seated next to the man fanning herself with a paper fan, listening intently as the man talked on. Her cheeks were red with the alcohol she had consumed over and from how half-lidded her eyes were. Hiroko gently pried the cup of alcohol away from Minako before she could notice.

"Yuuri!" She called, waving her hand in the air, forgetting about the alcohol pulling an elder gentleman but the arm. "This is Count Cialdini of Calabria, this is the man I was telling you about earlier!"

Yuuri respectfully bowed to the Count.

"Welcome to Oyeshima," He said with a heavy accent. The words felt odd on his tounge but at least the count could understand him. "I hope your stay in our country was pleasant, Count Cialdini."

As a prince, Yuuri had been used to seeing foreigners but never really speaking with them. Minako had been his tutor when it came to foreign languages. Afterall, Oyeshima had recently been a stopover for many ships to reach the New World that laid just beyond the ever-expanding sea. When he was younger, he's always sneak out of the palace and escape to the sea with Yuuko and Takeshi. He'd always counting the number of ships that passed by, guessing where they were heading and wishing that he could stow away on them. Yuuko, being the responsible one, would always make sure that he'd returned back to the palace before he could do anything drastic or ridiculous. Takeshi was more than happy to drag him back to the palace. 

"Oh! None of that!" Count Cialdini said with a smile, clapping Yuuri on the back. "Please, call me Celestino, your highness. I've already discussed matters with their royal highnesses and your advisor about your education abroad. It would be an honour to have you board with me as you continue your education in Calabria."

"What?" Yuuri turned to Minako and his parents. "But the-!"

"Yuuri," his father said knowingly. "We were always aware of you wanting to leave. It's okay, son. It was bound to come up sooner or later."

"We couldn't hold you back forever," Hiroko said, extending her hand across the table to grip Yuuri's. "It's difficult, for us especially, but locking you away isn't the way to do this. Minako was right. We want you to survive, that's true, but at the same time I don't want it to cost you everything."

"If it makes you feel any better," Toshiya said, wrapping an arm his wife's shoulder. "Consider this a birthday present."

"We want you to live your own life, prophecy or not."

"Are you sure?" Yuuri asked as the demons in his head told him to stay, told him that he was seeking death and he was wrong. It wasn't an ideal time for them to speak up but by gods, they were loud.

"No, Yuuri." Minako's voice pulled him out of his internal reverie. "Are you sure? It's your choice, after all."

Yuuri looked at his parent's faces, ignoring the sadness in his eyes before turning to look at Minako's and then Celestino who was blissfully unaware of what the conversation was about. His lifelong wish had been set before him on a silver platter, the one thing he craved since he had been cooped up in the palace and yet he was still hesitating to reach out and grab it? 

_Why?_

He was scared, he wasn't a coward to not admit that. Yuuri was scared of the future, almost terrified of it, and what it would bring. Would his fate be tragic like the prophecy foretold or would he find a way to live on? It was like flipping a coin and desperately hoping that it landed on the side you hoped it would. It was a gamble and a risky one at that.

It seemed fate and fortune had given Yuuri another cruel choice without his knowledge but Yuuri had already made up his mind. Whatever so-called fate was assigned to him, he can fight it, he will fight it. He knew he could.

He would live on and that was that.

This was his chance to take destiny into his own hands rather than hiding behind the walls of his home and the borders of his country.

"You're right, Minako-sensei. It is my choice," He said with newfound confidence in himself, the doubts persisted but he refused to give in, especially now. Turning to the Count, he extended his hand. "I look forward to studying in Calabria, Count Celestino!"

"Bueno! I'm sure you'll love my homeland!" Celestino beamed as he shook Yuuri's hand enthusiastically. "I'll be staying for two more weeks that can give you enough time to pack the essentials!"

'Two weeks?' Yuuri thought as Celestino continued to talk to his parents. 'That seems so short. Will I even have time to say goodbye?'

Many faces flashed before his eyes. Yuuko, Takeshi, their children, Minami, his family.

Secretly he asked fate how long would it be before he saw his family again? 

 

Viktor watched the politicians scramble in Parliment as they debated heatedly about what his future would be for him. To be honest, he didn't see what the whole fuss was about but the look on his parent's faces told him to think otherwise.

This was important. He needed to pay attention.

His mother sat poised and attentive next to his father as she listened intently to what they were saying. The small dip of her lips meant that she was furious or near it. From the corner of his eyes, he saw his father slip his hands under the table to hold her hand, rubbing circles, trying to soothe the hell she was going to rain down on these men and women. Galena Nikiforova took a deep breath in and then exhaled as she stood up from her chair, the hall quieted immediately under her gaze.

The Queen of Kievan was a powerful force to reckon with her usage of empathic abilities, almost legendary next to his father who was a well known for his use of battle magic. Viktor could feel the waves of tranquillity and calmness emanating from her even though she was livid underneath her carefully crafted exterior.

"While you bicker, my lords," She said, voice cutting like a knife through the air. "We are wasting more and more time as you lose focus on the issue of what is important. As a Queen and as a mother, we have come here seeking counsel and to find a solution to this matter. If anybody has any ideas, please do speak up, and if not then this meeting is adjourned."

"Your majesty," Lord Yakov spoke up, raising his hand. The Queen nodded for him to continue. "If I may, Your Majesty, we have sent several foreign emissaries to several lands to search for the Crown Prince's soulmate. None of the messengers have returned with any news of anybody, royal or not, bearing the exact same mark."

Viktor disliked hearing that and it showed in his eyes which were as hard as ice. He could feel his father's gaze on him as he hung onto every word that poured out of Yakov's mouth.

"Any news of the Eastern Commonwealth?" Aleksander asked as he stood up to stand next to his wife. The same edge in his voice, only it wasn't due to anger, it was just naturally how his voice sounded but it did help him run the kingdom.

"None," Yakov said again. There was a murmur that passed through the crowd, the words reaching Viktor's ear slowly. "None of the Royal's of the Eastern Commonwealth possess the mark."

"Even Oyeshima, the most distant one?" Viktor asked, daring a little bit of hope to crawl into his voice.

He stood in front of parliament, his eyes cast down upon them with his vivid blue eyes. His face was impassive. They couldn't see the way that his hands turned into fists, slightly shaking or the way that he grit his teeth, trying his best not to let hope turn into disappointment. It was inevitable, he knew. It had been seven years since his mark had appeared on his body, seven years and he had still not found his soul mate.

The countries officials decided that they would take matters into their own hand as they send out foreign representative after representative so that they could find his soulmate the moment he had announced his mark to his parents.

The problem had arisen when Viktor had come of marriageable age last December and had continued until late February. It was like a thorn in his side, the frustration of not being able to find his soulmate. 

He would never tell anybody this but he doubted he even had one. It felt so hopeless to even bother looking, maybe his soulmate didn't want to be found? Maybe it was because of the law that forbade nobles and royalty from marrying anyone below their station? Maybe they were scared of being spurred by him?

The search was specifically for the purpose of setting aside his soulmate so that they wouldn't affect Viktor and his responsibilities. 

Maybe he could change the law so that he could be with them? 

He could understand but the law was the law, it didn't care if his soulmate was his, he had to marry a royal. As the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Kievren, he had a duty to do what was best for his people even though his heart screamed at him to do what was best for him. It was the burden to bear as the crown and Viktor accepted it even though the sting of disappointment flooded his senses. Viktor could feel his stomach churn at the fact that he would be in an arranged marriage with another royal, maybe from the Kingdom or maybe from one of the neighbouring kingdoms. At this point, he treated the subject of his marriage with cold indifference hoping to delay it long enough.

The only thing he couldn't deny or delay was that he would never find his soulmate no matter how much he hoped to. 

There was little point in changing the law if they didn't exist. 

"Oyeshima is a rapidly developing country, your majesty. Even though their Royal family has embraced modern technology and its practices, they are rather secretive in nature and pushing or offending them any further would prove to be disastrous for the shakey trade network. I'm afraid Oyeshima is off the list."

Viktor pondered that and the flicker of hope in his chest began to waver like a candle in the wind. 

Did a soulmate really matter when it came to ruling a kingdom? He knew the answer was no but simply ruling was not enough. As he looked at his parents, he remembered that the throne was always meant to be shared. It was a burden of equal measure and if he didn't have a strong partner then the country wouldn't have a strong government. To have a strong partner then you must have trust. It was the monarchy that held things together through sheer will, strength, and cunningness.

"The Crown Prince is of marriable age, your imperial highnesses!" One nobleman called out. "Searching for someone who doesn't exist is a waste of time. The logical thing to do would be to arrange a marriage soon."

"Why waste time on someone who cannot be found?!" Another one cried. "His soulmate not presenting themselves is a good thing!"

Viktor didn't mean to glare down at the Noblemen without meaning to, his eyes narrowed dangerously daring him to speak again. His mother hissed his name under her breath causing Viktor to break eye contact and stare once again impassively at the floor of Parliament. 

"Hold your tongue!" Yakov growled. "This matter is to be dealt with delicately!"

The spell that his mother cast simply snapped as Parliment erupted into a commotion of angry declarations against each other and heated opinions. As his father said, coming back to square one was a tough lesson in politics.

"What if they don't exist?"

"How do we find them?"

"They could be in the East?"

Viktor heard these questions before and he knew the answers to every one of them; he simply didn't know.

"What if his soulmate is a peasant?"

Whoever uttered that question really got the ball going. Viktor looked around for whoever asked that but was met with a crowd of expectant faces.

 _'Oh,'_ he realized. _'They want me to speak.'_

Viktor pondered, looking for a neutral answer that would neither appease or deny the nobles curiosity. He came up with nothing but the very thing that was obvious. He knew he had no other choice but to say it, the last thing he wanted was his parents on his back.

This day had been disappointing enough.

"I know the law," Viktor said, his voice strong and confident. He surprised himself sometimes. "I cannot marry anyone below my station even if they are my soulmate. My soul mark will not get in the way of my duty. It is clear that my soulmate does not exist--" He ignored the looks of Yakov, who looked up at him with something like surprise and shock. It was hard to tell. This was not the time, he'd discuss it later with him. "--And if they do, then they have chosen not to present themselves to me. Soulmates are important, I will not dismiss that idea but in the grand scheme of the institution that I was born into and serve, my future spouse will have to embody qualities that are essential in a leader in order to rule by my side."

The sounds of clapping meant that they approved of Viktor's choice of words even if Viktor's mouth tasted foul with the stink of the lie. These words could come back to haunt him but he didn't seem to care. "That is what is important. Soulmate or not, it doesn't matter to me. It is the future of this house and my people that are critical." He stepped away, bowing before his parents who shot him concerned looks before leaving the parliament hall with his guards. Inside, the bitter resentment of forever being alone nibbled at him. He had ignored the worried looks of his parents purposefully and the sympathetic looks of his guards as he walked towards his chambers, back straight and head forward, every bit like a prince.

Makkachin had pressed her nose against his hand, sensing the sadness that was emanating from Viktor. His mother must have felt what Viktor was feeling, if not then it presented itself through his eyes. He only smiled, it was painful. If he wasn't careful he'd shatter but that wasn't a bad thing. Broken glass could be reformed anew into something even more beautiful and powerful. It was just a matter of will tested by fire and iron. 

The room cooled around Viktor, his powers activating at his distress. Makkachin didn't mind, her thick coat protected her from the cold. She licked at the tears that froze on his face, comforting him as she had when they were younger. He sunk to his knees, wrapping his arms around his beloved pet. 

Viktor didn't notice the sheet of ice that formed around him, shaping into twisted patterns across the floors. He could feel the cracks in his soul and soon he'd shatter into a million pieces. 

Yet, he didn't care if he came out of this stronger or wiser. 

It wasn't until he was sure he was alone did he allow himself to break down holding his beloved pet close to him. The tears stopped eventually but the dull hollow ache was present and he feared that it would always be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this!  
> I'll tell you, finding meanings for flowers to fit the theme is hard af. I had to do some research to find the right flower. Hope it's worth it.  
> Leave a kudos or a comment anytime! 
> 
> Here's my tumblr if you guys wanna talk:  
> [Link](https://lady-of-inklings.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Have a good day!


	3. Viscaria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viscaria --- Will you dance with me?
> 
> Recommended Songs:  
> 'Crimson and Clover' - Joan Jett  
> 'Can't Take My Eyes Off You' - Frankie Vallie  
> 'I'm a Believer' - The Monkees

When Yuuri had arrived in Calabria, he thought he would be alone in a foreign land with a foreign Duke as company and no friends to call his own but his textbooks and his plants. To his pleasant surprise, he had found an assembly of several other royal and well-off boys who had boarded with Celestino. (Most of them had been wealthy boys or younger princes from the East whose parents had sent them to Calabria to receive a proper education.)

The journey there had been long and by the time he had reached the capital city of Roma, he had simply fallen asleep on his bed.

No greetings, no words. Just pure uninterrupted, blissful sleep.

The other boys didn't really mind, they could understand. Half of them were from the Eastern Commonwealth kingdoms and they knew how tiresome and exhausting the whole trip could be.

When Yuuri woke up several hours later, the sky had darkened into a royal blue with stars dusting across the sky. It was late and he had skipped dinner. Squinting at the clock that had been placed next to his bed, Yuuri grabbed his glasses from the stand and sat up. His hair fell into his face, he pushed it back trying to keep it out of his eyes.

"You're awake!" Someone exclaimed from across the room, making Yuuri nearly jump out of his skin.

He placed a hand over his heart, turning to see who had startled him.

Sitting on a chair, facing the window was a tanned skinned boy with warm eyes and a cheerful smile. Yuuri could vaguely remember passing a boy similar to him last morning. Of course, his sleep-addled brain could only think of sleep rather than properly introducing himself to the others.

"I brought you some food," The other boy said as he brought over a plate, handing it over to Yuuri. He sat down on the edge of the bed as he continued to talk. "It's a bit cold but it still tastes good. I know it's probably not what you're used to but trust me, you'll learn to like it here. Of course, I'm more used to Siam's more warmer climate--"

The boy talked on as Yuuri took tentative bites of the food he was presented with. He had to admit, he liked the flavorful taste of the dish even if it did taste different to what he was used to. He'd have to be careful though, ever since Yuuri was a child he had easily gained weight which didn't sit well with Minako and her lessons. Constant dance classes and a variety of martial arts classes has helped him to maintain a steady weight and diet but he knew he'd easily gain it all back if he wasn't careful.

"--Roma is so nice during the summer or so I've heard. I just arrived here from Siam about a month ago," the boy said excitedly. "You're Yuuri Katsuki, right? The second Prince of Oyeshima? Ciao-Ciao wrote to us about you last week!"

Ciao Ciao?

He would ask about that later.

"Yes," Yuuri nodded, swallowing before taking another bite. "That's me. And you are?"

"Oh! Where are my manners?!" He exclaimed. He sat up saluting mockingly as the smile stayed on his face. "Prince Phichit of Siam at your service!"

"Siam!" Yuuri exclaimed.

"That's true. I am one of the princes of Siam," Phichit said proudly.

Yuuri chuckled at the younger boy, he couldn't help it. Prince Phichit was entertaining as he was energetic.

Their friendship started that night but it blossomed over time as they spent more and more time in Calabria. Personality wise, both of them were rather different but it was the small things they bonded over. Like the fact that they liked animals, dancing, and especially new types of food to try.

The other boys weren't too bad either. Almost all of them came from the East Commonwealth nations except for Leo.

There was the quiet Guang-hong of the country of Xin, he was one of the younger princes who had no hope of reaching the throne but he did have ideas about also expanding the rich trade network that flowed through. He has arrived at a much younger age, matter in fact he was the youngest of Celestino's wards.

Then there was Sueng-Il, the stoic young lord of Lee that had been sent to Calabria as a representative of the Emperor. Since he was very young, it was recommended that he had a proper education while he spent his time in Calabria. There were two things you didn't see him without, his impassive face and his dog.

The last boy was a bit of a rarity considering the fact that he was from The New World (or The Republic as they liked to be called, a recently liberated colony of Britannia mind you) and since his father was extremely wealthy, he was shipped to Calabria to learn a variety of things on trade and in acquiring new connections.

Phichit arrived months before Yuuri did, bringing his hamsters along with him.

Yuuri had been the last to join the Duke's very odd family.

It was a welcomed sight, a bit chaotic at the time but since these boys spent the most of two years together, the gaps had slowly disappeared. Yuuri could claim the fact that he called these people his friends even though he would always have a special place for Phichit.

Two years and Yuuri had no time to return back home to Oyeshima between constantly acting on his parent's behalf on foreign matters and studying with a variety of professors. Also, just going to and from Oyeshima would cost money and Yuuri was on a budget. It didn't matter if he was a prince or not, he still had to make every penny count out here because he was on his own.

He thanked the gods for the fact that he had been fortunate enough to have Phichit as his friend who despite Yuuri's difficulty with people, stayed rather supportive and a source of warmth.

"Now remember," Celestino said, leaning closer to his wards. "The capital city of Kievran is very complicated. It's easy to get lost here so to make sure that neither of you--especially you, Phichit--get in trouble. So, your highnesses, what's the plan again?"

"Stay in our rooms," Yuuri said without stuttering. He didn’t take his eyes off the book he was reading. "Don't attract attention."

"Act like absolute angels," Phichit replied back with a cheeky smile.

Yuuri snorted at that response, glancing at Phichit from the side which earned him a tired look from Celestino who looked like he could fall asleep any minute.

The journey to Kiveren had been rough, considering the fact that they had just passed through two different countries and a variety of stations just to get there. The whole trip had been very last minute meaning they didn’t have time to book a ticket on the express train, this left Celestino paying off some people so they could have a carriage all to themselves.

Good thing most of the kingdoms and countries were so close to each other. I really did save time, especially when you took the train. If they rode by horse or carriage or airship, they would've missed the ball by a fortnight.

Train's had just started to be put into use when Yuuri left Oyeshima, he'd never been on one before he came to Calabria. It wasn't the worst way to travel but sitting in a closed compartment for almost seven hours or more could drive anyone mad. At least, he was able to get some sleep sometime in between but he was sure he'd have some serious knots in his back from this.

He was awoken by Phichit once they arrived at the capital city of Kievran, Rus. The younger boy had shoved some bread into Yuuri's hand just before they exited their carriage.

When they left Calabria, it had been in the early hours of the morning where everyone was dead to the world. The sky was still dark by the time they had arrived at the station. They had some fruit for breakfast. Yuuri wasn't happy, being the night owl he was, but schedules were schedules. There was nothing he could do about it. But travelling with a duke had its benefits, the train carriage, as uncomfortable as it was, had been completely theirs. This ensured total privacy, something that Yuuri cherished. Most of the main baggage had been taken care of for them now they had only one job to do: avoid the reporters clamouring outside and get to the hotel unseen.

Since the Crown Prince was celebrating a promotion, many of the newspapers had been invited to cover the event. It was a jackpot for the latest royal gossip and an insight to the country's current political structure.

Yuuri didn't want to attend the celebration for that very reason.

Once upon a time, not too long ago, Oyeshima had a strict code of honour and respect when it came to its newspapers and the royals. The royal family was to be treated with absolute respect and any slander on them was considered an offence. Sometimes, depending on what was written, punishable by death.

Thankfully, that had changed when his father and mother took over.

Many of the commoners had wanted a glimpse into the Royal family's life so newspapers started printing about King Toshiya and Queen Hiroko when they took the throne, many staunch conservatives had argued that it was no business of the public to know what went on in the lives of the royals and that his parents should maintain an ounce of dignity. His parents wisely ignored them, allowing the press to cover most of the royal events. To the shock of his parents and the noble class, it only helped to increase the Royal Family popularity to new levels.

The gamble paid off but not without a downside.

Due to this, that meant that Mari and Yuuri had been exposed to the spotlight from a young age as Oyeshima’s darling Crown Prince and Princess. Yuuri was quick to learn how to avoid the press.

Still, that didn't mean that Yuuri was used to reporters questions or their cameras pointed at his face, he handled it well when he collected himself.

Celestino wasn't exactly happy about the idea of Yuuri asking him not to present him properly to the public but had quietly agreed out of respect for his parents and his trading ships. The king of Calabria was aware of Yuuri's presence and that was enough.

It helped that most reporters gladly looked over Yuuri, instead opting to interview the mostly extroverted Phichit who was happy to answer most of whatever question was presented. He loved promoting his country whenever he could and he didn’t mind pulling the spotlight away from Yuuri, all and all, Yuuri encouraged it.

But sometimes Phichit could be a bit pushy when it came to Yuuri attending parties, it was for the right reasons (mainly socializing) but Yuuri was known to be quite stubborn.

Phichit was the one who pulled him out of Celestino's greenhouse and into a train carriage so that they could attend the celebration for Crown Prince Viktor Nikiforov! Someone Yuuri had always wanted to meet but never could really muster the courage to do so. Phichit, being the wonderful friend he was, decided that Yuuri (and him) simply could not miss this golden opportunity of meeting a man he’s admired for almost over a decade or so.

Yuuri had seen a portrait of Prince Viktor only once at a very young age, that’s where it all started.

He was immediately mesmerized by the long flowing silver hair and the sky blue eyes that pulled him in. Yuuri was twelve years old at that time, shortly after his soul marks had come in. Seeing someone like that had a profound effect on him whether he knew it or not, it was like an awakening of sorts that Yuuri had yet to understand.

His family had been considering before about sending Mari off to some of the Western nations to learn diplomacy and maybe strike up a match. There were some talk of getting Mari a spouse from the West. That resulted in several nations sent portraits of their children to appeal to Mari, she had rejected most of them stating that she was too young and that she had no interest in marriage.

Eventually, his parents agreed that a foreign match wouldn't be wise for the future Queen of Oyeshima, this was one of the reasons many nobles kept an eye on Yuuri much to his displeasure.

From the moment he arrived in Calabria, the rumours of Prince Viktor lurked around. Some were good, others were a bit harsh but the image in Yuuri's head was of this great prince who wanted to serve his country as its future king. He was a dream, almost a vision.

How could Yuuri, the second crown Prince of Oyeshima go and talk to someone like that? Much less try to interest him in a trade deal with his country?!

Mari had written him a rather pointed letter reminding him of the duties and responsibilities that he was to uphold while he was overseas. Minako had sent him one as well, this one more focused on Viktor rather than a trade agreement. Yuuri had come here not only to pursue his own interests but to also further his country's interests while he still could. So when Phichit cheerfully asked him again to go, he had reluctantly accepted due to the fact that it was his duty to do so (and also because Phichit dragged him to the station before he could change his mind).

Yuuri sonderly glanced out the horse cab that carried them through the streets of Rus, finding some interest in the passing shops.

His mind wandered back to his parents and if they would like anything for their anniversary. It would be their 27th-anniversary date and Yuuri would be missing it.

Again.

The streets had lost their appeal suddenly as all Yuuri could think of was his home. He hadn't realized how much he would truly miss it the moment he left its shores. It was like a spindle of web, slowly building up over time till it tipped over.

The letters between home and him had slowed down a bit. Mostly due to Yuuri's hectic balance of studying and learning the art of trade as well as furthering his own studies. It had been exhausting and Yuuri would be lying if he said he wasn't struggling. He like it though, it gave him purpose. It got him out of bed on the days where he felt like it was a waste of time, maybe his sister could do it better or maybe he wasn't worthy of being a prince.

Those thoughts crept up on him, mixing in with the voices that did nothing but make him terribly anxious. It was another reason he was happy that he and Phichit had become friends, he knew exactly how to bring Yuuri out of such moods when Yuuri couldn't. It was difficult but somehow he did it.

Mari would write back often, so would Minako, even Yuuko did sometimes to pictures of her triplets. His parents had sent him various packages, mainly of food items that he couldn't find in Calabria. Those were the days he'd sit in his room and cry about his inadequacy about being a terrible son and prince.

The homesickness always hit whenever Yuuri felt his lowest.

Today just happened to be one of those days.

The anxiety of the upcoming celebratory ball did little to help Yuuri, not even his books could calm him down.

The hotel Celestino had chosen was in the more lively part of the capital. It didn't cost them a fortune to rent a suite for the night but the price was enough to make Yuuri's eyes bulge out of their sockets. By the time they had made it into their rooms, Yuuri had already claimed his bed. Phichit had hung around the suite marvelling at the sight of the city of Rusburg while Celestino excused himself.

He woke up later with the smell of dinner wafting through the air. His stomach let out an unholy growl reminding him that the small loaf of bread he had earlier didn't suffice. Celestino and Phichit had already started eating, speaking quietly. Yuuri sat down next to Phichit picking at his plate absently as he listened to them discuss the ball that started tomorrow evening.

"Yuuri," Celestino said. "You're parents have asked me to try to introduce you to the King and Queen of Kievran. I don't know if I can but maybe if you were able to talk to the prince.......?"

"Do I have to?" He asked already knowing the answer to that question.

He just wanted to study in peace, as well as prevent the prophecy! Was that too much to ask for?!

Sometimes, he wished he wasn’t born a prince but then again, who would do it if he didn’t.

"Yes," both of them said without hesitation.

"How do I talk to the Prince?" Yuuri asked, poking his dinner with his spoon glumly. "He's the Crown Prince of Kievran."

"And you're the second crown prince of Oyeshima," Phichit reminded, flicking a pea at him. Yuuri responded by throwing a baby carrot at him.

Celestino rolled his eyes wondering if these two were Princes or children. Maybe both?

"Just relax, Yuuri," Phichit said waving his spoon in the air. Like Yuuri hadn’t heard that before. "I heard he's really nice. I'm sure he's not a terrible person."

Yuuri bit his lip, questions flooding his mind once again.

"How about your try sleeping it off?" Celestino suggested.

He nodded, failing to convince himself that this was his duty, that he was doing this for his Kingdom and not himself.

 

 

Viktor stared at the mahogany gilded doors, his face impassive as he took a deep breath in and then slowly letting it out. Beyond the doors, he could hear the waltz that was being played and the fiat laughter that filtered through.

He always considered balls as a battlefield. He may have over exaggerated but in some regards it was. His main aim was to attend the party, throw around a few dazzling smiles, thank his parents for his promoting of princely duties, and then hightail it back to his rooms where he'd wait out the rest of the night with some spiced wine and his dog.

Of course, he didn't want to risk the wrath of his parents or worse, Lady Lilia, who had meticulously planned Viktor's promotion ball down to every detail. This was her big night as well as his.

It wasn't every day that somebody was named the official heir of the kingdom.

In all honesty, he had slowly started to despise balls through the years. Everything was too flashy, too loud, too.....empty. A hollow spectacle of nothing but politics and pageantry with little satisfaction that left a thorn in one’s soul. There was a time once where he used to love attending balls when he was much younger and much more naive. He loved the attention, the dancing, the whole feeling of enjoying the euphoria of it all.

He would never admit it to anyone but always had this silly little fantasy that he would always play out in his head when he thought about meeting his soulmate.

It was like a broken music box on repeat, warped and off key.

It would be at a ball just like this, Viktor would walk into the room where he would see them and everything around them would simply fade away when their eyes met. Sometimes Viktor would be the one to ask them for a dance and they'd dance the night away. Usually, the fantasy ended with Viktor proposing by the end of the night.

Looking back on that memory, Viktor couldn't help but cringe at his younger self and his childish dreams.

It was just a dream, nothing more.

‘How stupid,’ he thought to himself, scoffing at it. ‘I couldn't have been that naive.'

Ever since he realized that his soulmate didn't exist, Viktor only felt cynical. There really wasn't much value to anything else. His life had revolved around his duties as Crown Prince and future King of Kievran, love and life had been basically neglected.

There was no time for that.

He nodded towards the guards to open the doors of the grand ballroom. Quickly, he straightened his crown and make sure there were no ruffles on his blue coat. The dazzling warm light of the chandeliers engulfed Viktor as he stepped into the room, he could hear the applause of his guests along with the faint upbeat tune of the musicians.

"Vitya," Galena crept up on him like a ghost, the skirt of her blue dress fluttering as she held onto her son's arm, descending the grand staircase to the dance floor below. "I see you're fashionably late as ever. Your father thought you’d bail but thanks to you, I’ve won our wager."

"Who? Me?" Viktor said with mock surprise. "Why I'd never."

"I do hope that you'll be available to dance," Galena smiled, practised and poised as she nodded to the small gathering crowd.

"It seems that I have no choice in that matter." His face already hurt but Viktor relented to his mother.

"You assume correctly. Have fun, Vitya. Tell me if anyone of them suits your fancy. I'm sure one of them will catch your interest."

Viktor waved to the crowd before an upbeat tune started to play. His mother drifted away from him, heading towards the King as Viktor was left to fend for himself against the sons and daughters of various noblemen that begged for a dance. The stern look from Yakov and Lillia across the room told him that he had no other choice but to accept. This was no doubt a plot hatching by Lillia and his mother to find him a suitable partner. He really didn't see the point of it all, Viktor thought himself very much capable of choosing his own partner even if he didn't really have any interest in finding a suitable partner at the moment.

It was until several dances later that he noticed a certain blond haired, green-eyed duke waiting for him at the edges of the crown.

Finally.

Someone who made things interesting, or at least tried to.

He noticed Chris staring at him across the room with a smirk on his face. He was tempted to end his dance with his current partner and run to Chris. Chris silently raised a glass of wine towards him before turning his attention back to two other men that Viktor had never seen before. While twirling away on the dance floor, Viktor caught glances of the two boys. Chris was talking rather animatedly with the shorter man, clad in red and gold, whose tanned skin and dark eyes indicated that he was not from any of the neighbouring countries.

Viktor heard various rumours of The Eastern Commonwealth Nations. Many of them had been deemed valuable for trade and travel, Kievren had established a trade network through the island nation of Oyeshima but it had been struggling but functioning. His parents feared that if they didn't find a way to strengthen their relationship with Oyeshima in the next several years, their trade would wither away to nothing, effectively cutting them off from the rich sources of the East.

The man next to them, dressed in a fitted black coat with silver embroideries across his back and shoulders, was quiet. Glancing around the room nervously as he took a few quick sips from his champagne glass. He could've been from the Eastern countries but it was hard to tell from this far of a distance but he could make out that he was wearing glasses due to the glare reflecting off them. Naturally, he assumed the young man was nervous. It was a rather large ball and a foreigner in a new land had to be rather intimidating. He looked ordinary as he blended into the crowd, he only captured his eyes for a second before his new partner twirled him away and then he lost sight of the boy among the sea of faces.

Viktor didn’t really think about him too much. He was just another person in this room full of people.

It wasn't until an hour later when the last note of a slow waltz rang out did Viktor break free of his chain of suitors. Chris had been by the edge, waiting with a glass of champagne in his hand as Viktor approached. The smug look on his face was still present.

"Oh my, your highness," Chris tutted. "So many young suitors clamouring for your attention. Should I deliver the young ladies some bad news?"

Viktor downed the glass in seconds ignoring the scandalized looks of the waiter as he took the empty glass away from him.

"You should try it sometime," he responded, glancing behind him.

Luckily, none of the gaggle of young men and women was paying any attention to him. Looks like they were temporarily distracted by something else, probably Chris’s doing.

"As much as I love the waltz, your highness, I enjoy something a bit more---"

"Upbeat? Exotic? Fast paced?"

"I was going to say 'spicy' but sure, if you want to phrase it like that?" Chris shrugged, gesturing to the dance floor with his glass. "There used to a time where your parties used to be fun. Where did all the pizazz go, your highness?"

Viktor had to silently agree, there really wasn't anything exciting at these events anymore. He had to attend because he was the Crown Prince, otherwise, he would happily allow Yura to go. If only Yura wasn't so young, he might have someone to share this rather boring experience with than Chris. But Yura wasn't a Prince, at least not officially.

Yet.

"If you find those whole experience boring then you should spice it up," Viktor joked as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Maybe a little entertainment wouldn't be too bad."

"Don't tempt me."

"What type of friend would I be if I didn't?"

 

 

Yuuri had been glancing around the grand ballroom, the fitted black coat and its silver embellishments felt like they were choking him as he shuffled around trying not to bump into anyone in his inebriated state. Phichit had no issue with getting along with people, it was just Yuuri who followed him around like a shadow.

He could hear the ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ah’s’ from the crowd as Prince Viktor danced nearby with a new partner every new song or so.

The image in Yuuri's head completely shattered when he laid eyes on Viktor however. It was a glance through the wall of bodies, the silver hair catching in the corner of his eye.

Gone was the dream prince with long flowing silver hair and the sweet smile. In his place stood anew was a man who was far more beautiful than he had any right to be. Yuuri mourned the loss of his hair but he couldn't help but notice his face, with strong cheekbones and the impossibly blue eyes. He looked so ethereal twirling away on the dance floor like a fae prince from some sort of fairy tale.

He looked away suddenly feeling his doubt and insecurity trying to crawl up his throat. The closest drink near him was a champagne glass which he drowned to wash it all away.

Another drink followed yet the nervous feeling stayed.

Damn.

Yuuri didn't notice he was reaching for another glass---he lost count at this point---until Phichit called his name, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"-uri! Yuuri?"

His senses had dulled a little bit, a warm yet fuzzy feeling taking root in his stomach, and everything seemed to be interesting all at the same time.

"Yes?" He asked before taking another much-needed sip.

Everything felt like it was too hot like someone had set him on fire without his knowledge. Maybe another glass could help him with that.

"Duke Giocommeti asked you something."

Yuuri looked from Phichit to Celestino to Duke Giacometti before looking back to Phichit again. He blinked then turned to face the Duke once more who looked amused.

"Yes, my lord?" Yuuri said, slightly bowing.

How rude of Yuuri to not introduce himself.

The Duke smiled as he bowed back, he looked up regarding Yuuri with piercing green eyes that looked a little too wise.

"I was simply wondering where you were from, sir." He placed a finger to his lips, smiling. "Is it true that you're really from the far Islands of Oyeshima?"

"It's true, my lord" Yuuri finally said, confidence bleeding into his voice as his shoulders felt suddenly very light. "I've come from the second smallest island of Kyushu. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Giacometti."

He hadn't noticed the fact that he didn't say his name but for reason he dismissed it. It didn't seem that important of a detail. The alcohol that he had consumed previously had done little to prepare him as it hit him all at once. He felt like a bee stuck in a glass jar, almost shaking with excitement no. He finally understood why then called being slightly drunk as being 'buzzed,' it did make sense. Yuuri counted that he had only a few drinks but it did help to dispatch the nervousness that was haunting him through the day and well into the night.

He felt like he could do anything.

A little voice in the back of his mind, maybe that was Phichit, told him to sit down. He ignored it, brushing it away like an annoying fly.

"And what might be the reason that you visit Calabria?"

"Oh," Yuuri said, remembering that he was at a party. "I'm here to study under Celestino."

On the side, Phichit clutched his chest as he recovered from a mini heart attack. Yuuri glanced at him with a knowing look. He may have been a little tipsy but he still had his mind in check.

For now at least.

"Oh my," Duke Giacometti said. "Well then, it's an honour to meet someone from Oyeshima, especially someone so gorgeous as you. I do hope that you know how to dance?"

"Yes........?"

He leaned down, grasping his hand, easing up to his lips. The Duke brushed his lips across Yuuri's knuckles while winking. He let it go before handing Yuuri another glass of champagne which he happily drank to quell the blush that dusted his cheeks. It only made matters worse. Phichit raised his eyebrow at the action but didn't protest.

Instead, Yuuri weakly nodded as he stammered out a thanks.

"Splendid! Save me a dance!"

 

 

He was smirking, that wasn't a good thing. Viktor was half tempted to ask why he was smirking but it occurred to him that Chris always looked smug like he had a secret that nobody else knew.

It didn't really bother him but he was curious.

"I'm bored," Chris said. Again. For the millionth time.

"I did give you an opportunity. I'm afraid you'll have to find a way to entertain yourself," Viktor replied with ease, his tone teasing. "I'm sure it's not too hard for you."

Chris glanced at Viktor, he could feel his eye traversing his face, looking for minuscule cracks that lined his mask.

"Yes?"

He didn't reply, his smirk gone as it was replaced with a scrutinizing expression as he narrowed his eyes.

"Are you......happy, Viktor?" Chris asked, completely out of the blue.

That questions nearly made him drop his mask, shattering it to bits, allowing the world to have a glimpse at the true Viktor. He was quick at recovering as he put on his practised smile, brushing the question off like it was a speck of dust on his shoulder.

"Of course I'm happy," he said.

Christophe didn't say anything. He let out a deep sigh, breaking eye contact with Viktor as he gazed at the twirling dancers who danced happily to a Calabrian tune, he could see Duke Celestino dancing happily along with a noble lady.

"How could I be anything else?"

Christophe either ignored the last comment that was laced with bitterness or he simply chose wisely not to comment on Viktor's choice of words. He knew about Viktor's little problem concerning his soulmate. His heart went out to his friend but he held out some hope that Viktor would find his happiness even if it just took a little longer than others.

"Right then!" Chris clapped his hands, his eyes zeroing in on somebody. "I'm off!"

"To your next adventure?" Viktor asked.

"Something like that!"

Viktor watched as Christophe moved through the crowds approaching the same two men from before. He chuckled expecting him to ask the man in red and gold for a dance but much to his surprise it was the other boy who daringly stepped out, asking the Chris something. It was the one who had been silent up until now, he mildly piqued Viktor’s interest. By his expression Viktor could tell that Chris was pleasantly surprised as the other man took his hand, leading him out to the floor. Viktor nearly felt sorry for the poor man who danced with Chris. Clearly, he was drunk, his movement and his expression revealing so. He munched on something as he waited for the beautiful disaster to begin.

At least there would be something entertaining tonight.

Christophe signalled to the musicians, causing them to end the waltz prematurely giving way to a sultry beat that Viktor recognized immediately.

Tango.

Viktor recognized it as the first beats of the guitar rang out and suddenly everything shifted focus.

Chris and the man danced across the floor, chests close together, eye to eye, and the music entirely for them as their steps matched perfectly. They spun around the room with expert skill and Viktor nearly kicked himself to why he thought that man was ordinary. He moved with confidence and gusto as Chris led him around the room, owning the dance floor as theirs.

The shy demeanour of a mouse gave way to that of a roaring lion. His body moved to the music effortlessly, bending and snapping as the notes commanded him to. Chris following en-suite, losing himself to the music as well with no shame.

It was exotic, almost break taking.

Eros incarnate.

Chris dipped the man down, slowly bring him back up as the notes drew out. The mans leg high in the air, eyes focused entirely on Chris as he brought him back up to spin him around and back into his arms.

The intensity between them was almost tangible, like a live wire and the entire room was watching. The music started building to its crescendo. Guitar and Violin fusing together into a seductive piece that felt like it could shift at any moment. It was a flurry of expert steps and spins as Chris dipped the young man quickly once more as the final note hit.

Viktor had not been aware of the fact that he had been holding his breath. It wasn't just him, he realized as he looked around the crowd. Some of the guests looked scandalized whiles others were purely intrigued by the young man who had commanded everyone's attention though simply dancing.

Surely, this would give the gossip columns a field day.

Several of the guests snapped out of their shock, clapping excitedly as Chris lifted the man back up, both of them smiling ecstatically as they bowed. Both of their faces red as they were proud.

Viktor blinked and then blinked again to make sure his drink wasn't tainted with anything.

Chris turned to him, his eyes victorious as they smoldered under the attention that was placed upon him and his partner. The other man followed Chris's gaze until he locked eyes with Viktor and Viktor suddenly remembered why he liked men.

Chris grabbed a few champagne glasses as they pulled away from the floor, passing it to the man as he gulped them down, not caring that he only made it worse for himself.

The music resumed, although not a boring waltz. Several other dancers took the floor, mimicking the enchanting dance that Chris and his new partner did.

Chris kissed the other man's hand before pushing him toward Viktor.

Viktor didn't notice the wink that Chris sent his as the dark haired man came strolling toward him, confidence in his every step as he approached Viktor.

'What do I do?' Viktor thought as he approached closer. 'What do I say?'

Suddenly the man was in front of him, his brown eyes meeting his and once again he chastised himself for thinking this man was ever unordinary.

Gone were his glasses, his cheekbones flushed as sweat glistened on his forehead. He had the prettiest shade of brown that Viktor had ever seen, something Viktor wouldn't mind gazing into. He was foreign, strange, and exotic but for some reason, his heart burned but he ignored it as his mouth felt dry.

‘Say something, you fool,’ Viktor chastised himself.

There was a spark in his eyes drawing Viktor in like a moth to a flame. Something in him that made him feel contagiously alive for some reason. It radiated off him in waves and Viktor wondered what it felt like to be that free.

"Prince Viktor," the strange, yet suddenly beautiful man said, alcohol tainting his words as he held out his hand to Viktor. "Will you please dance with me?!"

Eyes around fell onto the both of them and Viktor felt self-conscious for the first time in his life. He knew his mother and his advisors would disapprove of him accepting a dance with a man who came from nowhere but the longer he gazed into the eyes of said man, the more determined he felt to break the rules and live a little.

If only for a night.

"Yes," he said, breathily.

Then he was pulled into the fray.

A ball is truly like a battlefield.

The gorgeous man lead him around the room, joy and excitement rolling off him in waves as he dipped, spun and even twirled Viktor through the night. Viktor would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying himself. He had given this man dance after dance and not once did he ever feel bored. Every nerve in his body buzzed with life as the stranger dipped him, cupping his face as he giggled above him. Viktor couldn't help but laugh as well, letting it fade into music that surrounded them both.

Viktor felt like this man was the world and he was the moon, oddly spinning around each other like a celestial dance that never ended. He prayed that it would never end.

Maybe they were drunk, the dark-eyed even more so, or Viktor had suddenly woken up from a spell.

Later that night, he gazed into the man's eyes again as he sloppily hung from Viktor, his arms slung around his shoulders as he babbled something away in a foreign language that he didn't understand but he could help but find adorable.

His voice sounded even better when he spoke his mother tongue!

The gorgeous and thoroughly drunk man opened his eyes, his expression softening as he gazed at Viktor. He said one more thing as he jumped up wrapping his arms around Viktor's neck. Viktor didn't understand what he said. He let out a quick gasp as he raised his hands pressing them against the waist of the young man as he felt his cheeks burn.

Everything felt so right for some reason.

For once in his life, he wanted to hold on and never let them go.

It only took a second for him to tear his eyes away from the man, Mila had asked if she should take the young man away. She had her hand on the sword that was ever present around her waist as she eyed Viktor cautiously. Before Viktor could refuse, the other boy from earlier who dressed in gold and red appeared. He wrapped his arms around the stranger's torso, pulling him away from Viktor’s arms.

"Ah...sorry about my friend. Congratulations once again." the boy said with a forced smile, his voice quick and breathless. "Thank you and goodnight, your highness! The food was delicious!"

It happened too fast, almost in a blink of an eye. The man had been his arms for most of the night and suddenly Viktor felt the chill of loneliness sinking back into his bones. He looked up at where the other boy went but it was too late, he had vanished and the sea of faces looked at Viktor as he stood there equally dumbstruck.

'Why are you standing here?!' His inner self yelled at him. 'Move! Move! Move, you moron! He's getting away!'

Snapping himself out of a trance, Viktor broke out into a run heading towards the direction where the stranger disappeared off to.

He hadn't even gotten his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos or a comment anytime!
> 
> Here's my tumblr if you guys wanna talk: [Link](https://lady-of-inklings.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> Have a good day!


	4. Lemon Geranium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemon Geranium (Pelargonium): Unexpected Meaning
> 
> Recommended Songs:  
> 'Fever' - Peggy Lee  
> 'Roundtable Rival' - Lindsey Sterling  
> 'Terra Incognita' - Taku Matsushiba, YOI soundtrack

Everything hurt.

Yuuri woke up in his hotel room feeling like someone slammed a sledgehammer into his head over and over again. It hurt to even open his eyes as he rolled away from the window, pulling the covers up over his head to hide from the light.

Death suddenly felt like a nice option.

The banging of the door as it swung open did little to help matters as Phichit strolled in, a cup of coffee in his hand as he hummed excitedly over to Yuuri's side of the bed. How could he be so chipper in the morning while Yuuri felt like he was being burned alive?

"Yuuri!" Phichit sang out as he laid the cup of coffee on the nightstand. "Good Morning!"

"No.......," Yuuri simply mumbled, trailing off as he scrunched himself into a little ball.

"That's what happens if you don't pace yourself, Mr. Sixteen Flutes of Champagne!" Phichit poked Yuuri through the blanket trying to wake him up, showing no mercy as he repeated his name. "Celestino's letting us stay one more day so we're going shopping! C'mon, Yuuri! We can't waste today just because you indulged too much in alcohol."

Yuuri felt like death and Phichit wanted to go out shopping for gifts. Glad to see his friend had his priorities straight. He didn't even want to think about what happened last night and he'd rather think about it later. 

The covers were yanked off and Yuuri felt the chill of the room. Phichit, with no guilt, passed Yuuri the cup of coffee before pushing him into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Every muscle in his body protested the action and his head throbbed reminding his bad decisions. He remembered flashes of drinking some champagne and talking to Duke Giacometti, everything after that was a complete blank. Yuuri didn't dwell on it too much, sure he shared his father's tendency to get a little more than crazy when he got drunk but perhaps Celestino stopped him from doing anything too rash and just maybe--maybe--Yuuri had passed out and it was all in his head.

He had his doubts but the pain drowned most of them out.

When he was dressed and the throbbing of his head turned into a dull yet present ache, he emerged from the bathroom. Phichit sprung up, already dressed for the day in his civilian clothes, grabbing his hand as the sneaked past Celestino's room where the both of them could hear light snoring. Looked like Yuuri wasn't the only one who indulged either.

The streets of Rusburg differed from the window of a carriage. It was louder, bigger, and much stranger. Phichit and Yuuri had become accustomed to the narrow paved streets, red clay roofs and a multitude of the plaza's that occupied Roma. The architecture here was more gothic reminiscent of the country's past and the streets were wide enough for carriages and people to pass through. 

Yuuri couldn't help but admire it. 

There was a bit of winter that lingered in the autumn breeze, Yuuri had made sure to bring a scarf and knitted hat to hide his face as well as protect him from the cold. The journalists still lingered around the city looking for an unfortunate royal or aristocrat that was stupid enough to fall into their clawed hands. Phichit lowered his head every time he spotted what he thought was a journalist and Yuuri did so too out of habit.

Yuuri kept glancing behind them, noting the most notable markers in case they were to get lost. Phichit, crown prince or not, was much more daring that Yuuri was; more willing to go out and explore. He didn't hesitate as he strode through several squares admiring the shop windows and pouring over every little detail that fascinated him. Yuuri occasionally agreed with him as he browsed through several of the shops looking for something he could send back to his family to show that he still kept them in his heart and mind.

Homesickness seemed to worm its way into his heart again. It didn't mix well with the lingering effects of his hangover.

A small glass pendant caught his eye as he passed by a stall. It was a tiny and a soft shade of pink, shaped in the way of a ballet dancer. A small ribbon had been tied around her waist as he outstretched her arm to an imaginary audience.

Minako-sensei had adored the art of ballet, it was one of the many forms of dance she had personally taught Yuuri. If he recalled, he remembered when he was young that Minako sensei told him that she travelled for quite a bit before she settled down as an advisor for his parents. She told him of the various mentors she had been placed under and how ballet always seemed to be the one that caught her attention. Watching Minako-sensei dance around the small room in the palace had made his heart leap out of his chest in excitement as she leapt and twirled and dipped her way through. There had been no music playing that time but he could almost hear the notes she made, he had begged her immediately after to teach him. He too wanted to make music with his body. 

He never regretted learning it.

"Yuuri?" Phichit looked up at him holding two pairs of glass earrings, one red with swirling gold and the other blue with silver painted on it, "Which one should I buy?"

"The red one looks lovely," he said, noticing Phichit's tense expression. Yuuri placed his hand on his shoulder. "It brings out your eyes."

"Thanks, Yuuri."

Yuuri continued sifting through some of the other pendants, looking for something for his mother and sister. He found a lovely pendant shaped like a heart that faded from red along the outer edges to pink towards the centre. For Mari he found a lovely dragon ring with green glass dotting the space where its eyes should be, it seemed something she would wear. He felt like it wasn't enough though, as if he should be sending something more valuable to his mother, a simple trinket like this didn't seem very fitting for the Queen of Oyeshima.

Phichit had wrestled him into buying it, stating that his family wouldn't care as long as it came from him.

For his father, he brought him several scarfs made of the finest wool. Back in Oyeshima, the windy season would arrive bring with it the cold from the mountain. By the times the gifts would reach his family, it would be winter there. He brought several different colours just in case he wouldn't like blue.

"Phichit?" Yuuri called out to his friend as he noticed their surroundings. He couldn't find the sign they had passed by earlier or the red door to the dress store or the man selling little wooden toys. "Do you remember how to get back to the hotel?"

"Yes, Yuuri." Phichit tore his eyes away from the sweets behind the glass windows, he pointed to the left. "I think if we go that way, we'll make it back to the hotel before sundown."

"You think?" Yuuri echoed.

"Pfft," Phichit snorted, brushing off his uneasiness. "We're fine. Trust me."

 

 

"Is he still in his room?" Yuri Plisetsky grumbled as he walked up to Mila.

Mila, the red-headed Captain of the Palace Guards, nodded her head as she rubbed her hand over her tired eyes. She tried to suppress a yawn that threatened to bubble up, she had been outside Viktor's door since early this morning, keeping an eye on Viktor in case he decided to do something reckless or stupid. (Yakov's words, not hers.)

"Is he still complaining?"

"About the mystery man?" Mila answered in a deadpan. Usually, she would be willing to tease Prince Viktor about his little so called crush but she was too tired to actually care. A pair of rather lovely violet eyes and soft lips had been drawing Mila's mind away since last night. "Yes. Maybe you can get him out of his room. His majesty even skipped breakfast."

"Good fucking grief. It's already noon," Yuri swore as he knocked harshly on his door. "Alright, Viktor! I'm coming in so you better not be crying!"

"Good luck," Mila said, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the wall.

Yuri Plisetsky was not known to be gentle (at least exteriorly) and there were very few things he tolerated. Being late to a fencing lesson was one of them.

All he did was miss one fucking ball because and he wakes up with the entire palace abuzz about the fact that someone had swept Viktor off his feet and then abruptly left leaving Viktor a moping mess. That's what he heard at first but the story changed every time, getting more and more extra and outrageous the further the rumour spread. Some of the servants had whispered the Viktor had found his soulmate. To say the least, his uncle had not been very happy over the fact during breakfast.

"Viktor!" He yelled as he burst through the door and into his room.

Makkachin gave a startled bark as she perked her head up, wagging her tail as she realized that it was just Yuri. Viktor didn't even pay attention as he was talking to Yakov and Georgi.

"Did anybody see him leave?" Viktor asked, calm as a spring breeze. Yuri was expecting a frazzled and tumultuous mess of a man from what the rumours had said but were surprised to find Viktor absolutely composed as if nothing was bothering him. "I'm sure some of the stewards or guards must have seen him on his way out."

"I'm afraid none of the stewards registered their absence until after, your majesty. They didn't have time to process their hasty departure." Georgi said. "However, if you want to know, we do have their invitations."

"For the love of God, Georgi!" Yakov barked. "Do we have a name or not?!"

"Ah yes, there lies a small problem, Sir." He said, hesitantly. Eyes shifting from Yakov who was terrifyingly stone-faced and Viktor who regarded him with intense blue eyes.

"For fuck's sake!" Yuri groaned causing all three men to turn their eyes on him as he stood there with his arms crossed.

"What?" He snapped indignantly, taking off his coat. "All this fuss for some nobody." 

"Yura!" Viktor said, his tone chastising. "Language!"

"Don't bullshit me, Viktor." Yuri hissed. "You were supposed to meet me at the courtyards two hours ago. It's almost noon!"

"Oh," he said, his finger in his lips. "Was that today?"

Honestly, Yuri wasn't surprised over the fact that he had forgotten. Typical Viktor with his old man memory. Yuri was just pissed about the fact that he had two hours of his life wasted by his older cousin. There's was no point mentioning to Viktor how much he had been looking forward to this lesson. He took a deep breath in and let it out, most of his frustration with it. Most.

"Get on with it, Georgi." Yakov sighed, probably losing more hair the more time he spent around these three.

"Yes.....well...it seems we don't have a name," Georgie said, he rushed to finish before Viktor could say anything else. "But not to fret, your majesty. We do have the names of the men who were invited to this event, the young man who danced with you last night was their plus one and----"

"Georgi," Viktor said tiredly.

"Fine! Sheesh, no sense of drama.Your mystery man was accompanied by Duke Celestino of Calabria and Crown Prince Phichit of Siam, your majesty. It seems Duke Celestino failed to list the name of his plus one," He pulled out a piece of paper, reading through the information. "At this moment, the Duke has rented a suite in one of the hotels located in the Shopping District. If you want, your highness, I can issue a royal summons----"

"Nonsense, Georgi!" Viktor said, springing up from his seat. A smile erupting onto his face as he held onto Georgi's shoulders. "This is excellent! I'll go to him myself!"

"What?!" Yakov and Yuri said at the same time.

Viktor grabbed his coat, let it hang off his shoulders and he adjusted his clothes in the mirror. A stupidly bright smile adorning his face as he did so. Yuri was tempted to kick him, just to knock some sense into him.

"What do you mean you're going to him?!" Yakov's face looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel at any moment. "You are the Crown Prince, you don't go to anybody. They come to you, your majesty."

"What fun would that be?" He pouted. "Let's change it up a bit, shall we? I'll take Mila into the city with me if it makes you feel any better. She is the Captain of the Palace Guard, not to mention how skilled she is. She'll protect me."

"But the king--"

"I'll handle the King when I come back."

"Viktor," Yakov sighed, dropping all titles. "Going into the city would be giving those damn pesky reporters a field day. "

"Then I'll go a little more incognito."

He grabbed a hat and a thick scarf from his wardrobe. Viktor wrapped the scarf, allowing it to cover the lower half of his face and slid on the knitted cap so that it hid his silver hair. His clothes on the other hand.........

"Ta-da!"

Yuri sighed, grabbing his coat and putting it back on. Trust Viktor to make the dumbass decisions. If this moron got killed while looking for this pig then Yuri would be the new Crown Prince, life was already hard as it was with just being his cousin. He wasn't doing this because he cared about Viktor's well being but because how Viktor's actions tended to affect those around him. It was like a pebble dropped into a pond, rippling outwards. Yuri just happened to one of the people who were in the path of the first ripple. "You're an idiot, Viktor."

"Am I now?" He asked, coyly. "Where have I heard that before?"

"Oh, shut up. Let's just go already."

"You're coming with me?"

"Someone has to make sure you don't do anything stupid when you see your so-called mystery man," He said. "And plus, I'm bored."

 

 

While Viktor hurried into the city to find his mystery man, Yuuri and Phichit were hopelessly lost in the capital and nobody seemed to know the hotel they were staying at.

Wonderful.

"Okay, don't panic," Phichit said as he kept on walking, gripping Yuuri's hand tightly. "I'm sure we'll see the hotel soon enough"

Yuuri doubted that.

"---Maybe if we're lucky, he's still asleep."

He doubted that too.

"We're not that lost."

At this point, he doubted a lot of things.

Yuuri took a deep breath and let it out, he had to stay calm. This was his and Phichit's first time to the capital city of Rusburg, it wasn't that surprising that the both of them had ended up getting lost. Maybe it would've been wiser to take Celestino along.

As the sun dipped lower and the sky darkened, their surroundings became more and more unfamiliar. He could tell that they were far from the touristy parts of the city. Phichit pulled them into a narrower street with fewer people. Common sense told Yuuri that they were walking into trouble. Even Phichit was slightly apprehensive about continuing on. Both of them stopped to rest their aching feet.

"Maybe if we find that square with the jewellery market," Yuuri suggested as a group of shady looking people passed them, they gave the both of them a look over that definitely wasn't friendly. He had a bad feeling about this. Good thing he brought his knife and he did know how to use some of his magic but he doubted his affinity with plants would help him here. "We could get back."

"So turn back?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Agreed." Phichit nodded as the street seemed to close in on them. "Let's go."

Before they could turn around and head back, Yuuri felt someone brush past him and suddenly a very sharp knife prodded against his back. Phichit's mouth was hung open as another man placed a knife to his back and placed a beefy hand on his shoulder, holding him in place.

"That's a nice bag you've got there, boy." Someone said behind him.

"Excuse me?!" Yuuri balked. He could smell the stink of tobacco that assaulted his nostril, the smell of garbage and soot did little to help.

Phichit was no doubt pissed, Yuuri could see the storm gathering in his eyes. He shook his head, non-verbally telling Phichit not to do anything rash. The last thing they needed to do was die in some unfamiliar city.

Yuuri was scared though mostly for Phichit, his heart pounded in his chest. Years and years of martial arts training couldn't help him. He could easily disarm the man but that would put Phichit in danger. He had a knife tucked into the lining and the arm of his jacket, but if he moved or breathed in any way that was threatening, the man behind him wouldn't hesitate to drive his knife into his back or Phichit's.

Death didn't seem appealing as it did that morning.

"Now you walk," the person behind them said. "Or else."

Yuuri had a strong feeling that 'or else' would end up with the both of them in the gutter somewhere. The people around them rushed passed them, either blatantly ignoring what was going on or just blissfully unaware of the fact. His lips were a straight line and he took a deep breath in, not to calm his fear but to stoke the fire of anger that burning in him.

"Move," the man hissed, pressing the knife into his lower back just a little bit.

Yuuri's eyes met Phichit who looked equally miffed but did a better job at hiding it. He took a deep breath in before he moved, the both of them moving farther and farther away from the well-lit streets and into the darkened alleyways.

 

 

Mila was dragged through the city as Viktor vibrated with unbridled excitement. He was going to meet a man who literally swept him off his feet. On the way, he got the brilliant idea of bringing him a gift as they passed by a series of shops. Yuri and Mila had exchanged a concerned glance as Viktor went from window to window looking for something.

A wine bottle? No, too boring.

A silk scarf? Too bold.

('How the fuck is a silk scarf too bold, Viktor?!' Yuri growled.)

A bouquet of roses? Sadly a bit too cliche.

"Why don't you just give him your hand in marriage?" Yuri joked sarcastically as they passed a jewellery stand. He snapped at Viktor when he looked like he was considering it, dragging him away before he did something stupid as buying a pair of rings or something equally ridiculous. Mila had lingered a bit looking for something before quietly following behind Yuri and Viktor.

Sadly for Viktor, he didn't have to worry about getting his rather mysterious suitor anything. They were greeted by a very hungover Calabrian Duke who had not been expecting company, especially the Crown Prince of Kievan.

The whole meeting had been a disappointment due to the fact that the person who had temporarily added some colour to his life had disappeared once again but at least he had gained the name of his mystery man.

Yuuri Katsuki of Oyeshima.

'Yuuri,' Viktor thought as he tossed the name around in his mind. 'Oh, his name sounds beautiful too.'

Duke Celestino had stated that both of his wards had disappeared, most likely to explore the city before they were to leave next morning. They bid the Duke goodbye, intending to return back to the palace.

Instead, Viktor moped his way through the city as Mila and Yuri followed solemnly not really sure what to say as he headed the opposite direction of the palace, closer to the centre of Rusburg.

"Don't worry about it, your majesty," Mila said, trying to comfort him. "You did leave instructions for Mr. Katsuki to contact you. I'm sure he will in the future."

"Highly doubt he'll write back," Yuri scoffed ignoring the dry look Mila gave him. "Forget about him, Viktor. What were you even expecting about him anyway? He's just some foreign pig that got a little too drunk. Big fucking deal."

Viktor whipped around, causing Yuri to nearly bump into him.

His face was dangerously impassive again but his eyes were smouldering as he stared down at his cousin. Yuri stood his ground, arms crossed as he raised his eyebrow, a challenge imminent. Mila sighed, rolling her eyes at their behaviour. Viktor had been known to be calm and composed, rarely losing his temper. It had been a very long time since somebody had gotten under his skin and it wasn't surprising that it would be Yuri to do it. 

The temperature around them lowered and Mila glanced around them. She placed her hand on Viktor's shoulder reminding him that they were in public. 

Mila's eyes shifted between the two as she wondered if Viktor looking for this Yuuri Katuski was a good thing or bad thing. She'd never seen Viktor so animated about someone ever before and she had been quite surprised how excited he had been about finding him. It was unexpected but then again, Viktor did like surprising people.

"Look Viktor," Yuri said, his voice just an octave lower (softer.) "I know you want to find your soulmate and all but don't you think that it's just a bit ridiculous for someone like you chasing after a man you just met last night? "

To be fair, Yuri wasn't wrong. Even Mila, who didn't lean towards men, had to admit that Yuuri Katsuki captured everyone's attention as he swept Viktor away on the dancefloor. From the rumours that had been spreading, Viktor wasn't the only one that had been affected by the hurricane know as Yuuri Katsuki.

'No way," Mila thought as she tugged her jacket closer, blocking the chilled breeze that passed through the square. She didn't know if it was because of Viktor or just the heralding of autumn in the foreseeable future.

If Viktor acknowledged his words, he didn't dare show it. Instead, he took a step back and turned to Mila.

"Mila, escort my cousin back to the palace," He lifted his hands up, slipping the scarf over the lower part of his face and bringing his hat lower to hide his silver hair. He noticed Mila's weary look. "Don't worry, I'll be back by sundown."

Mila wanted to argue, grab Viktor by the ear (risky but necessary) and drag him back to the palace with Yuri. Before she could protest, Yuri had brushed past him muttering about how Viktor should listen to him. Viktor had already receded into view leaving Mila no choice but to follow Yuri. Viktor had years of experience when it came to his fighting skills but still, leaving the crown prince to wander around the city didn't sit well with her and neither did letting Yuri.

With an irritated huff, she jogged after Yuri.

 

 

The cold seemed to seep into Viktor's bones as he trekked through the city, he welcomed it. The sky started to darken and the further he went into the heart of the city, did he truly see its dark inky black soul.

Viktor had travelled most of the streets of the capital city when he was younger. Most of the times, he had Mila and Georgi, who had been more willing to get into trouble before they joined the Palace Guards. The adventures they had in these very streets made him smile with nostalgia. It had been quite some time that he had left the safety of the palace for the uncertainty of the streets.

He actively avoided the shopping district and the most popular of squares, he favoured the living areas with their markets and people. The clamour of everyday life grounded him, it gave him perspective when it came to learning what his people wanted.

There were hoodlums in the area? Viktor assigned the case to Georgi to take care of.

Bread prices went up? Viktor had some of the royal grain transported to the people.

Was a bridge falling apart? Viktor had it fixed as soon as he could.

Were merchants suffering losses in trade? Viktor drafted a new trade agreement.

Most of the nobles turned up their nose at Viktor. They didn't like him or his progressive ideas. The recent trade agreement he had drafted up that allowed merchants to trade freely with other foreign countries had angered the conservative nobles who didn't hesitate to insult him through their polite smiles. His parents had been proud of the fact that he took charge of his responsibilities but they were very much aware that some nobles hadn't been happy with his choice.

Viktor laughed it off saying what was life without a few enemies.

The chill in the air didn't really bother him very much. He took the cold, embraced it, allowing it to cocoon around him like a shield. He had an affinity for ice-based magic after all. He knew basic spells to protect himself but combining them with his master swordplay had produced a lethal combination that he had almost nearly perfected. He made sure to bring his sword with it, it was strapped safely around his hips and hidden from view by his travelling cloak.

A small group of men ahead didn't hesitate to give Viktor the evil eye as he passed by, his clothes had been civilian but he still carried himself like a highborn. Viktor was smart enough to not to make eye contact.

As he was walking past an alleyway he heard a yelp and then a crash from the inky darkness.

Most people would walk past the alleyway, ignoring the sounds, pretending that it didn't exist. He couldn't fault them for their feigned ignorance, the world was cruel and it was wise to avoid trouble.

Viktor wasn't most people. He sought out trouble.

'Maybe Yura is right,' he thought as he entered the darkness of the ally, sword drawn at the ready. 'Maybe I am an idiot.'

The light of the lamposts spilt dimly into space, dimly illuminating the five men that stood there (or rather the three that were mugging the other two.) Viktor's shadow grew, eclipsing them as he tightening his grip on the hilt of the sword. He called for the chill that lingered in his heart and bones, allowing it to flow into his hand, forming a glowing blue orb of ice.

"Hello, gents!" Viktor said, he expression not matching his cheerful voice. "Mind if I ask what's going on here?"

Blue light crept onto the walls and onto the ground, shining a spotlight on the darkest spaces. The light reached the two men whose face had been pressed against the wall, incapacitating them. The glint of a dull knife could be seen pressed to their backs.

"Nothing going on here, Sir!" One of the men said, his gruff voice and clothing stating the exact opposite. "Just a small disagreement. Best be on your way."

"Liar!" one of the men pressed to the wall growled, he turned his face, a large bruise on his cheek faded into the tanned skin. The other had still been partially hidden by the shadows but he could hear him hiss his friend's name.

"Shut it, boy!" The same man hissed before turning to Viktor, raising his knife up as a warning. It glowed red menacingly, the man was unaffected by it as he continued to stare Viktor down. Viktor could smell the scent of she, he realized that a fire elemental stood before him. Perfect. This shouldn't be too hard. ice beats fire, right? "You'd better leave or else you'll end up like these two, sir."

Viktor didn't know if the man was utterly stupid or had a strong will, either way, he didn't care. He was in a mood for a fight anyway.

He threw the ball of ice without warning, watching as it sharpened into a spike heading directly at the fire elemental. The sound of hissing could be head as fire bloomed out of the elementals hands, melting the spike. Viktor dodged the blast quickly, sidestepping just in time. The trash can behind him hadn't been so lucky.

Viktor stabbed his sword into the ground, sending spirals of ice at his assailant. He looked up satisfied that his legs were encased in ice but unfortunately, his hands were still free. Viktor sent another wave of ice spikes, impaling into the wall behind him, pining the mugger to the brick by his loosely fitting clothes.

The mugger let out a yelp as one barely missed his neck. His eyes were squeezed tightly and then he opened them, looking around confused by the fact he wasn't a human shish kabob.

"I'm alive?" he looked as Viktor, his eyes wide with fear and bewilderment.

Did he really think that Viktor missed?

He heard somewhere swear loudly behind him, as he spun around to look, one of the muggers was clutching his bleeding arm. Viktor raised his hand, another orb of ice formed, illuminating the space around him.

He froze, his words stuck in his throat.

Those eyes, the same soft brown eyes that haunted Viktor since last night, stared at Viktor with shock.

"Yuuri?" Viktor managed to say. "Yuuri Katsuki?"

"Your Majesty?" Yuuri said as he looked like Viktor as if he were a ghost. "What are you---?"

"Yuuri!" His friend yelled, Viktor presumed that this was the young prince of Siam. It was a small world after all. "Watch out!"

The previous mugger had come free of his icy prison, sending a fireball that came barreling towards Yuuri.

"No!" Viktor yelled, raising his sword to deflect the ball of fire.

It ricocheted off his blade and into the man who held Phichit. The mugger staggered back but Phichit had managed to spin around, sticking his leg out, tripping his mugger as he fell into the garbage. He let out a laugh. 

"Ha ha! Take that!"

Phichit's triumph was short-lived as the mugger grabbed his foot pulling him down as well.

"Oh, C'mon!" He yelled as he punched the mugger in the face for ruining his clothes.

Before Viktor could deal with the second mugger with the bleeding arm, Yuuri's fists glowed green as he pressed his fingers against the cold and wet ground. Vines erupted from the crumbling brick and the cracks in the ground. With a wave of his hand, he sent the horde of vines towards the muggers, ensnaring them, immobilizing them quickly. The vines wrapped around the three muggers, covering their mouths and binding their limbs so that they could neither move or speak. They let out muffled screams as the struggled in vain. 

Yuuri walked up to one the muggers, whose mouth had been covered by a vine preventing him from speaking. There was a dangerous spark in his eyes and his lips pressed into a straight line, his expression was almost terrifying. 

His hands still glowed green.

"These will last for about twelve hours," He said, causing Viktor to raise his eyebrow. "I'd try not to move too much, they have a tendency of squeezing their victims to death."

Viktor stood there, ice still in his hand as Yuuri calmly picked up his knife from the ground and tucking it away into the sleeve calmly. A lot of questions of ran through Viktor's head only one of them wondered about the knife. He didn't realize that Yuuri gaze had turned to him, worried and a little bit panicked, nothing like the angry yet dangerous expression from earlier.

The switch made him curious. Yuuri Katsuki, the faceted enigma that Viktor wanted to learn more about. If he was intrigued by Yuuri last night, he was absolutely fascinated by him right now.

"Are you okay, your majesty?" He asked him, his voice gentle like the breeze.

He could be insulting him and Viktor would listen, he was surprised by the fact that he wasn't a puddle on the ground.

'You're the Crown Prince, Viktor! Act like it!' He internally yelled at himself but at the same time he thought; 'He so....adorable.'

"I'm perfectly okay," Viktor responded, sheathing his sword away, regrettable breaking eye contact with Yuuri. "Although it seemed that you didn't require my help at all. That was remarkable, Mr. Katsuki. Truly."

The red in his cheeks brought on by the cold bloomed a deeper shade of red, he eyes blinked as if he were trying to process the moment. His lips parted as he tried to form words. Viktor briefly glanced at them.

He regarded the young man who had swept him off his feet night before with vigour and then ferociously fought this night and finally shyly glancing up at Viktor through his darkened lashes.

This man was layers of layers upon of mystery that Viktor looked forward to uncovering, piece by piece. 

If Yuuri would let him that is.

"Thank you, your majesty," He said, still starting into Viktor's eyes. "But I couldn't have defeated them if it wasn't for you. You distracted them long enough for me to escape. You just saved my life and my friends. How could I ever thank you?"

Viktor didn't mind staring into his eyes a bit longer. It was for research purposes he told himself, for the good of mankind.

"Are you hurt?" Viktor asked, suddenly realising that he had been staring too long at Yuuri's face trying to memorize his features. The soft brown eyes, the chapped lips (his eyes lingered a little too long there,) the soft blush of his cheeks, and the gentle slope of his nose. He wanted to reach out, running his finger over his skin, to see if it felt as soft as it looked.

It was tempting but Viktor was strong.

"Oh yes, I'm fine! Nobody mind me," Phichit grumbled sitting up, the sarcasm ever so evident in his voice. He flicked a piece of rotting lettuce off his shoulder. "You know, nearly died and all. No big deal. Please, continue to gaze into each other's eyes. By all means."

"Sorry, Phichit!" Yuuri exclaimed, breaking eye contact with Viktor once again as he dived down to help his friend up onto his feet. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"Besides my ego?" He said, wincing as he stretched his arms. "Yes, everything else is fine."

Phichit, one of the many princes of Siam regarded Viktor with confusion.

"Prince Viktor," Phichit said, it came out more like a question than a statement. Viktor had the impression on people, it came with the princely charm and all.

"And I believe you are Prince Phichit," Viktor said, putting his scarf back on. "Nice to officially meet you. Both of you."

"Same here," He said informally before turning back to Yuuri. "How hard did I hit my head?"

Viktor had explained the events leading up to his and Yuuri's fateful meeting as he escorted them back to their hotel. Yuuri listened diligently, not uttering a word (mainly because he was dying on the inside from embarrassment) as Viktor recounted the events of last nights ball with a fond smile, Phichit followed behind but secretly smiling as he watching his best friend and the most eligible prince hit it off.

Yuuri placed his hand over his mouth, his face red as he listened to Viktor talk about his drunk antics the previous night.

"I'm so sorry, your majesty!" He groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Don't be," Viktor said. He reached out, prying Yuuri's hands from his face. Yuuri's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as Viktor moved in closer. He could feel the warmth radiating off his jacket as he held Yuuri's hands in his. Yuuri, a man who valued personal space, was having another internal meltdown. "It was the most fun I've had in a very long time and you were absolutely amazing."

Yuuri just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. He didn't know that there was a word that went beyond mortified. He swore he could hear Phichit cackling behind him.

"Thank you, your majesty...." Yuuri said, not really sure how to respond to him.

He preferred not knowing exactly what he did but whatever he did, he wondered if he should do it again. It did bring Viktor to him after all and Yuuri was only minorly complaining at the turn of events.

Besides from pictures, Yuuri could only dream of seeing this man up close. He had the bluest eyes he had ever seen, they almost put the sky to shame. Through his embarrassment, he couldn't help but be drawn into them. The way he stared at him didn't help matters either, he looked at Yuuri like someone would look at the moon in the sky, with wonder and awe.

It didn't make sense to him.

Why would Viktor look at him like that?

Yuuri blinked, lowering his gaze, breaking whatever spell Viktor had cast upon him. His hands felt too warm in Viktors and he remembered that he was just a lowly prince from some foreign nation. It was a shame, he wouldn't have minded standing there and looking into his eyes just a little bit longer.

Viktor was the crown prince of the country of Kievren, he may have been entertained by Yuuri due to him being intoxicated but that was that. A person like Viktor would forget about someone like Yuuri eventually.

This was just flirting, nothing more.

Yuuri didn't entertain the fantasies in his head.

"We should get back, your majesty," He murmured, slipping his hands out of Viktors grasp. He lingers for a bit before pulling back to the pockets of his jacket. Yuuri didn't notice the saddened expression that flickered quickly across Viktor's features or Phichit facepalming in the background. "It's already late. I apologize for keeping you so long."

"Don't worry, Yuuri," Viktor said. "I'm happy that I was able to meet you again although I have to admit, I didn't expect it to be under these circumstances."

Their surrounding became more familiar as they made their way to the shopping district, Yuuri recognized the various shops they had passed earlier that day. Most of them had been closed. The closer they got to their hotel the more people filled the streets and light surrounded them, banishing the shadows that followed them.

It felt like stepping into a whole new world.

"We can take it from here!" Phichit sais as he spied their hotel in the distance, he turned to Viktor, bowing slightly. "Thank you for saving us, your majesty. The both of us would have been--"

"It's perfectly fine." Viktor looked around for any reporters hanging around. Just because it was late didn't mean that some vultures would perch themselves around here for a good scoop. He hated the press but they were useful so he couldn't really complain outright.

He turned back to Yuuri.

"Yuuri," He started, wondering if he should just stop and walk back to the palace. He had more courage to face his father than asking Yuuri this. He didn't know if he would ever see Yuuri after this and simply letting him go didn't seem possible anymore. "I do hope this isn't too forward of me but I was wondering if I could write to you?"

"Write to me?" Yuuri said, his mouth hanging open. "Your majesty, I couldn't ---!"

"He'd love to!" Phichit exclaimed without hesitation, throwing his arm around Yuuri, interrupting him before he could finish that sentence. "Wouldn't you, Yuuri?"

"Huh?"

"Perfect!" Viktor responded with equal amounts of enthusiasm. It didn't matter who the answer came from but he had it. 

He reached down, grasping Yuuri's hand and brushed his lips over his knuckles. He looked up to see the adorable blush blooming against his cheeks as Yuuri looked down at him. Viktor didn't mean to be so forward but he simply couldn't resist. He'd do anything to see that shade of pink again, Yuuri wore it well. "I look forward to reading your letters, Yuuri. Sleep well."

He let go of his hand, his fingers lingering of Yuuri's as they brushed passed his.

This was another goodbye. He really did hate goodbyes. Their last one had been so abrupt but this one was long and drawn out which made it harder for Viktor to turn around and head back to the palace. 

"Good night, your majesty!" Yuuri said before Phichit pulled him into the revolving doors.

"Viktor," He said without thinking.

"What?"

Yuuri stopped on the top of the steps, looking down at Viktor in confusion.

"Call me Viktor."

Yuuri's lips twitched slightly, hinting at the ghost of the smile.

"Sleep well, then," Yuuri said back, the smile reaching his eyes. "Viktor."

Then he disappeared behind the doors of the hotel leaving him behind in the cool autumn air of Rusburg.

Going back to the palace was like a bird flying back into its gilded cage. 

The lecture from his father didn't last as long as he expected, his mother stepped in halfway through since his father needed a break. She continued the lecture on his behalf only letting him go because the time was so late.

He went straight to bed, stripping off his shirt as he crawled underneath the covers. Makkachin curled up above the covers, falling asleep quickly. Viktor remained, sleepless as well as restless, as he stared at the ceiling of his room. The ticking of the clock and the soft snores of Makkachin could only be heard.

Viktor thought back to that fantasy that he had dreamed about when he was young, about him and his soulmate meeting in a ballroom and then they would dance away into the night where it would end in a whimsical marriage proposal that would be that.

It had been stupid, Viktor realized that as he grew up.

His second encounter with Yuuri had been in a dark alleyway, framed by the crumbling bricks around them and the scent of smoke instead of glittering chandeliers and beautiful flowers. It wasn't what he was expecting but it had given Viktor a chance to see a side of Yuuri he was pleasantly fascinated with. (Who knew that Yuuri looked beautiful when he was angry too?!) He could still see those brown eyes, hard as granite softening to the consistency of warm chocolate the moment his eyes met Viktors.

He felt his heart beat faster, he didn't know why Yuuri captured his attention. Without the alcohol or the magic, most people would view him as unremarkable but Yuuri had something. That something brought Viktor to him. A spark, a way to hold someone attention so that he became the centre of their universe.

Even without alcohol, he had been so entrancing.

Viktor turned in his bed, Makkachin whined at being disturbed before going back to sleep. The smell of the ocean and a hint of spice.

He tossed again. Warm brown eyes that looked at him as if he were the most wonderful thing in the world.

He flopped onto his back. The chapped lips that Viktor had earlier wondered what they would feel like under his fingertips or even against his own lips.

He huffed, sitting up in his bed, his hands combing through his hair. 'How could I ever thank you?' The melodic sound of his voice, even if it had been laced with worry.

Viktor had either been reading too much poetry or he had finally cracked or maybe both.

He had it bad. He knew it, his family knew it, and the entire court would've known about it if it wasn't for his parents.

Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri.

It had been only a couple of days. Viktor knew that falling in love wasn't like the books or plays he'd seen and read throughout the years, it was so much more complicated than that. It didn't happen instantly, he stopped believing in 'love at first sight' a long time ago.

He honestly thought there was no such thing as 'love at first sight.'

Love was for children, Viktor was a crown prince but with the short amount of time he spent with Yuuri, he felt like a man---normal, human, down to earth.

Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri.

How could one man do that to him?

He didn't know if what he experienced was love, it definitely had the symptoms of a hopeless infatuation but it was like a seed that planted itself deep in his heart. If someone yanked it out, they'd pull a part of him it out as well.

The roots had already reached deep whether he knew it or not.

Soulmate or not, He didn't care. He never liked following the rules anyway and he's given up on finding his soulmate aeons ago.

What was the point waiting around for someone who didn't exist?

Maybe Yuuri had a soulmate? Maybe he'd already found his?

Viktor tried not to think about it.

He closed his eyes again and Yuuri flashed behind him, the soft yet shy smile he had given Viktor before disappearing behind closed doors. It was so gentle, something he wanted to lock up and tuck away. It was a selfish thought but Viktor was a selfish man and he accepted it willingly.

Viktor didn't say that he wanted his heart to beat for someone but in the future, with time on his side, he wouldn't mind if it beat for Yuuri and if fate was kind, vice versa. 

It was a silly dream. Another fantasy that would never come true. He was being hopeful again, how stupid of him to do so. 

Viktor, regardless of how he had matured, still dreamed once in a while.

The law forbidding him from choosing a lowborn to wed was the harsh dose of reality that shattered the whimsical illusion in his mind. The worst thing that could happen was that he fell in love with Yuuri but selfishly against what the logical part of his mind said, in his heart, he craved a chance.

It was too soon to love but Viktor could only think of the future possibilities as he dozed off.


	5. Agapanthus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agapanthus: Love's letter.
> 
> Recommended Songs:  
> 'Ocean Eyes' - Billie Eilish  
> 'I Will Wait' - Mumford and Sons  
> 'Lot to Learn' - Luke Christopher  
> 'Malaguena Salerosa' - Chingon, Kill Bill Vol. 2 Soundtrack

He knew it was stupid.

Of course, it was stupid. This whole entire situation was stupid. 

Stupid, stupid Yuuri. 

Utterly stupid to think that he could write or say anything interesting at all to charm the prince. Yuuri had more important things to worry about; the prophecy, his studies, and even his already precariously balanced duties. 

Why was he losing his mind over a prince with the most beautiful eyes Yuuri had even seen and a nice laugh and an amazing---Stop! 

He needed to get a grip! Now! 

(Maybe go jump in a lake while he was at it.)

Staring at a blank piece of paper did little to calm his already frazzled nerves. The quill in his hand was useless as he couldn't think of anything to say to him. 

But Yuuri had another problem as well.

Yuuri just couldn't bring himself to write a letter to Viktor. Ever since he had returned from Kievran to find Viktor's letter, he had stared at a blank sheet of paper trying to think of an appropriate response. Phichit had threatened him thrice already to write a letter or he would send it to Viktor himself if Yuuri didn't man up.

That had been about two weeks ago.

Ever since he'd sit down at his desk, hold the quill in his hand as he desperately tried to formulate something to say. Then he'd get up to pace for a bit while he let his thoughts run around in wild circles before sitting down once again to try and write something only to give up five minutes later. Phichit would make it a habit to watch him half concerned and half amused as he sat on his bed, reading silently. 

It was on the morning of Yuuri's twenty-first birthday when he received yet another letter from Viktor. Phichit had gotten a hold of it before Yuuri could snatch it from Celestino's hand.

"Phichit!" Yuuri grabbed a pillow from the couch, throwing it at his friend as he chased Phichit.

Celestino shook his head at the two made off towards the library. 

"Coming through, Gents! Don't mind us!" Phichit said, breathlessly as he burst through the library doors. Guang-Hong and Leo who were supposed to be reviewing some books, jumped apart in surprise, their faces surprisingly pink. Yuuri paid little mind to them. They looked between Yuuri and Phichit briefly exchanging knowing yet exasperated glances. They were used to Phichit and his antics by now.

Phichit stood up on the couch, clearing his throat. He stood dignified and far out of Yuuri's reach as he read the letter, " 'Dear Yuuri, I hope you're well and I've been thinking about--"

Yuuri grabbed a pillow, chucking it with incredible accuracy as the cushion made contact with Phichit's face. The younger male went down, landing on the cushions of the couch with an undignified 'oof' before Phichit could utter one more word of his letter. 

He snatched the letter away, a triumphantly smug look on his face as he did so.

"So when's the wedding?" Phichit asked, slightly out of breath as he placed his arms behind his head. 

He stuck his tongue out before sitting down to skim over the contents of the letter silently. Phichit along with Leo and Guang-Hong looked at him, trying gauge his expression as he read the letter. Yuuri's eyes just had this type of glow in them that everyone else could see, they softened considerably as his eyes eagerly drank up the words. A hint of a smile crossed his face, illuminating the slight tinge of pink of he cheeks and nose.

The plants dotted around the room bloomed vibrantly in reaction Yuuri's cheerful mood. Little buds which remained docile sprung forth like mother nature herself had told them to come out of hiding. 

'Interesting,' Phichit thought, a self-satisfied look passing over his face as he plucked a small table rose. Yuuri had taken notice of his expression, clutching the letter close to his chest in order to hide the content of the letter from him. He looked sheepishly around the room at the sudden appearance of flowers. Sometimes his magic got out of control, he couldn't help how plants reacted to his mood.

The soft look had vanished. 

Phichit didn't say anything as Yuuri returned back to their room with the letter but the smug look remained. He was happy to tease Yuuri further but bit his tongue instead, holding back what he had wanted to say. 

He'd wait until dinner to do that.

 

Yuuri slipped back into his room, closing the door slowly so he didn't make any noise. 

He placed the letter on his desk, smoothing it out carefully. It had been crumpled by his and Phichit's chase through Celestino's home but the words were still legible.

 

'Dear Yuuri,

I hope you receive this letter, I didn't receive a response from you since I sent the first letter nearly one week ago. Naturally, I assumed that it had been lost by the courier. It happens sometimes but I do hope that this letter reached your hand safely.  
How are you, Yuuri? Did you reach Calabria safely? Is your friend well?  
These past two weeks have been rather boring, nothing's been quite the same since the ball. I even told my cousin, who's also named Yuri, about you and your bravery. Even if he did stomp his foot and yell at me (pre-teen angst, I'm telling you) he seemed quite impressed by you even if my Yura won't admit it.  
I wish you would be able to meet him one day. Imagine that, my Yuuri and Yuri in the same room. It's quite an interesting thought, isn't it?  
The distance between Calabria and Kievren isn't that vast but it feels like I'm on the other side of the world from you. I hope in the future, after the winter has passed, that I could meet you or you could meet me.  
If it isn't selfish of me to ask but I was hoping that our correspondence would help us know more about each other. A single night wasn't enough. I want to know so much about you and I hope that you'll learn about me as well. These letters, if you choose to continue them, will be my only link to you.  
Yuuri, I wasn't sure if I should put write this but I mean every word with the most utmost sincerity; nobody has ever fascinated or intrigued me as you have. Even when you are sober, you are something special. I just want you to know that.  
Please write back soon, Yuuri. I'll be waiting.

Love,  
Viktor Nikiforov.

 

Yuuri wanted to write back a response to the letter as soon as possible but the more that he stared at the blank piece of paper, the more he felt his anxiety rise once more.

His Yuuri? The hell did Viktor mean by that?!

Where the hell did he even start?

Your Majesty? Was that too formal, he had addressed Yuuri as 'Dear Yuuri' but then again isn't that how you start a letter? Maybe he should try Viktor but quickly banished the thought. He wasn't that close to the prince to call him by his first name and it would be highly improper (in the back of his mind, he could see Mari rolling her eyes dramatically) and not say odd.

He settled for 'Prince Viktor,' not too formal but not too familiar either. It had his name and title so it had to be fitting, right? 

Then again, he did say that he could address him as Viktor. Then again, he could be saying that just to be polite. Then again—no, no! Stop that! Don't do that to yourself, dammit!

He crumpled the paper up into the ball, tossing it behind him desperately wanting to hit his head against the wall.

Yuuri thought about running his letter through Phichit before giving it to Celestino to send to Viktor. He immediately retracted the idea, Phichit would though his intentions good would most likely tease him about it.

He continued writing and rewriting the letter as he tried to convey an appropriate response as one hour blurred into another. 

First, he settled by addressing Viktor by his name. He thanked Viktor for wishing him a happy birthday and told him that he hoped that he could see him again in the foreseeable future. He wasn't sure if it was too bold of him telling Viktor that but if Viktor had told him that he enjoyed Yuuri's company then why couldn't Yuuri say he wanted to see him again?

He was due for a visit to the royal apothecary in Helvetia in the spring, maybe he could run by Kievren on the way there. He wondered how he could see Viktor once he reached Kievren, or did Viktor would ever want to be seen with him"

He banished the thought for later.

"Writing a letter to a certain Prince?"

He almost jumped out of his seat, nearly spilling the ink over the letter. Luckily, Phichit had grabbed the ink bottle before it spilt over the letter that Yuuri had meticulously crafted the past half hour.

"Phichit!" He squeaked, placing his hand over the letter and another one over his heart.

Phichit glanced down at the words between Yuuri's fingers, certain words catching his attention before lifting his eyes back up to Yuuri's face.

"Need help?" Phichit offered as he sat down on the edge of the bed. 

"No," Yuuri said as he folded the letter, preparing to seal it with Celestino's wax seal. Celestino had given him a copy of his seal so that when he did eventually get the courage to send Viktor a letter, it wouldn't be disregarded. Since Celestino represented the royal family of Calabria and he was relatively well known in most of the courts here.

He stopped, putting the was stick down as he let out another one of those gloomy signs. 

"Yes," he said, doubt lacing his words. 

"Yuuri?"

"Maybe?" That feeling came back, stronger than ever. 

"Are you okay--?"

"Phichit, do you think this---" He gestured to the letter lamely, "---Is this stupid? Maybe it's just pointless afterall, and I'm just grasping at straws. He'll probably never read it anyway and I'll just be pestering him and he's the crown prince of----"

"Yuuri," Phichit said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Breathe."

"I know," he took a deep breath in and then held it, counting down from ten before he let it out. "I just feel like fates pulling my leg here."

"He asked you to write to him personally. Hell," the younger male exclaimed loudly. "That's not something someone requests simply by a chance meeting. Maybe it's fate........."

"I highly doubt it."

"Yuuri!" He whined, pouting as he did so. "Did you not see the way that he was looking at you the entire time. Even during the whole ball, he couldn't tear his eyes off you."

"It's just—" Yuuri broke off, groaning. He placed his face in his hands, heartbeat accelerating as blue eyes crossed his mind once more. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he wanted to see Viktor again but it didn't make any sense. These feelings were too much and Yuuri felt like his glass heart would shatter at any moment. "—Why would someone like him want to write to (or see) someone like me?"

The room was unusually quiet as he waited for an answer to his rhetorical question. He looked up at his hands to see Phichit with the driest expression possible, his lips pressed into a thin line as he narrowed his eyes. His eyes and expression basically said, 'are you fucking kidding me right now?'

Another moment passed before he spoke.

"You do realize that you're a prince too, right?"

"Yes......?"

"And that whole 'Nobility Law' doesn't apply to you or him for that matter?"

"I wouldn't go that far!" Yuuri exclaimed, eyes wide. Him marrying Viktor? Ha! "We're not going to get married!"

"Yet....."

"Phichit!" He said, pressing his face into his hands this time out of embarrassment.

"Yuuri!" Phichit shot back, a mischievous smile gracing his face, making him look like the Cheshire Cat by the minute. "Just write to him, Yuuri. You must be special to receive a letter from His Majesty on your birthday."

"Or it could just be a formality," Yuuri mumbled, signing his name on the back of the letter.

"No, it isn't." Thank the gods for Phichit's optimism. Sometimes Phichit reminded him of Minako, those two had some similar aspects and if they ever met, they would get along just fine. Poor Yuuri. "He wrote at least three letters hoping that you would respond! Three! Don't keep the poor man waiting, Yuuri! He's probably anxiously awaiting your long overdue response! He even said that in the letter!"

"I doubt that---" Yuuri stopped, mulling over the last thing Phichit said. 

Damn, he was right. 

"You doubt a lot of things, you know." Phichit raised his eyebrow, challenging Yuuri to disagree with him anymore. "Just send your love letter to him already."

"Phichit!"

 

Rusburg looked like any other city in this country, without spring, the capital looked bare and almost ugly.

At least he could go ice skating with Yura so it wasn't that bad. It was one of his favourite parts of winter, he wondered if Yuuri might like to try it? 

Viktor stood atop one of the towers, looking out at the expense of the capital city. It felt empty today, almost bland. All the colours of the city had been drained out as the weather shifted from autumn to winter. Soon snow would cover the capital until the spring.

It had been two weeks since he bid Yuuri goodbye, two weeks since he sent his letter and another couple of days of sending the second one after Yuuri failed to respond back.

He had begun to feel anxious as he paced around the corridors of the palace, ignoring him paperwork for the day in lieu of some time with his dog and his thoughts. Viktor couldn' remember the last time he took Makkachin out for a stroll. It had been quite a while and he couldn't help but feel a little guilty about neglecting his constant companion.

Yakov wasn't happy about the fact that Viktor had sent out a letter to Yuuri but there wasn't anything he could do.

He had pulled him aside one parliamentary meeting.

"I hope you know what you're doing, your majesty," Yakov said, his words low but they carried a hidden meaning. Viktor understood but didn't mean he had to follow them. Viktor was smarter than he looked, Yakov should know that. The man taught him almost everything he knew about politics. "This will hurt you in the end. Mark my words."

There was a sense of truth to his words but Viktor smiled coldly yet politely, thanking him for his advice. No doubt Yakov would've told his parents about this by now but he hoped that Yakov could give him a pass. 

Just this one time.

(Viktor just wanted to hold onto this.)

"I'll take it my mother and father put you up to this?"

He knew the answer but he still asked him. He had his suspicions. 

"They only do what's right for you, your majesty. You know that."

Unsurprisingly, there was no regret in Yakov's voice. The man had been cold and unmovable like a mountain for almost his whole life but Viktor knew deep down in that stone heart of his that he cared about Viktor and Yuri. 

"I know, Yakov," Viktor said, placing his hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "But what about you?"

That had been almost a week ago.

Makkachin bumped her nose against Viktor's hand as if she sensed his melancholy. Viktor obliged by absently petting her head. 

"I think you'd like Yuuri, Makka." He said, closing his eyes as the winds of the oncoming winter passed through his hair. "There's just so much about him I don't know. How can I know? He hasn't written anything back but I have no right to simply demand answers from him."

Viktor lowered his gaze to the gardens below. The rich colours of fall had bled from the trees leaf by leaf leaving nothing behind but wooden skeletons. Kievren was known for its cold winters but as well as its beautiful summers. In order to reach the warm passion of summer, one must wait through the indifferent chill of the winter.

"Maybe Yakov is right," He said to Makkachin who rolled around in the snow.

Yuuri was Viktor's summer, something he craved for but through patience and time and a little bit of care he would achieve.

It was a rather romanticized thought but Viktor was known to be rather passionate about things as well as people.

He pushed away from the wall he stood against, the cold still lingering against his back. Frost had settled where his hands rested on the stone. He was getting broody again, wasn't he? 

On some days just like today, he could still feel his marks burn pleasantly against his skin. He once wondered if it was his soulmate calling to him whenever he felt like this but he just dismissed it as something that came and went. It was just a mark on his skin, it held no value to him.

Servants bowed to him as he passed through the corridors to his study, stepping out of his way. 

He removed his jacket before settling down at his desk. Makkachin settled herself near the fireplace that warmed the study. Viktor took one look at the paperwork on his desk and sighed. He felt like Yakov was extracting some sort of petty revenge. However, paperwork was paperwork, if he ignored today's pile then he would have a bigger pile the very next morning. Viktor did have another fencing lesson with Yuri and he didn't want to miss that because of paperwork, for Yuri's sake if not his.

As he flipped through some of them, briefly skimming through, he noticed a small letter had been placed towards the bottom. A small not had been attached to it, presumably from Yakov. Viktor recognized the handwriting.

'Vitya,' the note read. 'I haven't informed your parents of this matter. Yet. I hope you know what you're doing. If not, settle this with the Katsuki boy. Mark my words, he'll be your downfall.'

These words had been brief, cutting and straight towards the point but Viktor could hear the unconditional love that Yakov had placed into the letter with care. No doubt in secret but it was the thought that counted. It was right there if you squinted enough. Yakov had been like a second father to him, picking up the slack where his father had failed to continue his duties as king. Viktor could never repay him for protecting him from the court and press as he did.

The small letter was tied in a red ribbon with a familiar wax seal holding it in place. He recognized the seal of Duke Celestino and the pieces all fell into place. He turned the letter over to reveal Yuuri's name which had been scrawled on.

He traced over his name, eyes softening as a warm feeling rolled through his chest.

Viktor greedily opened the letter, reading the contents over with a giddy smile on his face that refused to leave.

 

'Dear Victor,

Forgive me for the late response, I don't have an excuse for not responding back to you so late. To put it simply, I was scared. I was afraid that I'd simply be bothering you and that you wouldn't read this. It's a silly thought but I'm not a very brave person. It took me a second letter from you on my birthday before I finally wrote to you. I apologize for that. I want to keep writing to you and I hope that my delayed response hasn't ruined that.  
However, receiving your letter on my birthday made me happier than I could ever imagine. Phichit told me that I smiled more this entire day than I did last month.  
I'm not very good at expressing myself verbally or otherwise but I will try for you, Viktor.  
To be honest, I'm not sure what to write about but I suppose I could talk about how my birthday went. It went well and even if it wasn't like home, I'm glad that I was at least able to celebrate it with my friends. My family sent me some clothes as a present. Oyeshima seems to be becoming more and more western the further time I spend away.  
Celestino brought me a new suit, Guang-Hong and Leo both gave me a new journal to write in. Seung il, the quietest of our little group gave me a little statue from his home country. Otabek, the newest edition, was nice enough to buy me a lovely card. I appreciate the effort, I don't really care about gifts. It's always the thoughts that matter. Phichit gifted me a few books, most of them are in Helvetian. I've been trying to learn it for quite some time.  
I've been invited to study with the Helvetian Royal Apothecary during the spring. Perhaps learning the language of the country I'll be staying in might come useful. I just hope I don't make a fool of myself there, especially in front of Prince Christophe. The ball was embarrassing enough.  
To answer your questions; Yes, I'm well and I've reached Calabria safely. Phichit said hello and he wanted to thank you once again for coming to our rescue.  
I'd love to meet your cousin though I think he'll be rather disappointed by what he sees. I'm not very special but tell him I said thank you.  
I debated if I should put this in my letter or not but I'd like to see you in the future, too. It might not be possible due to the winter but hopefully, in the spring, the both of us could see each other.  
Write to me when you have time.  
I'll be looking forward to your next letter,

Yours truly,  
Yuuri Katsuki. '

 

He scrambled for the pen on his desk, ignoring the paperwork that he needed to look over.

Yuuri said he wanted to see him again!

He also said that he looked forward to his next letter.

Yet, why was Yuuri so scared to write to him? Was it because he was a prince? Viktor didn't know anything about Yuuri's background but he assumed that he must have had some wealth to be the ward of Duke Celestino and a close friend to Prince Phichit of Siam. 

Viktor's status as Crown Prince could be a little intimidating, he knew it affected how others viewed him. 

Yuuri didn't consider himself to be brave or interesting, he said it right there in ink. Viktor, still not knowing much about him, felt like that was wrong. 

There had to be something special about Yuuri to pull his attention. Not that Viktor held himself in high regard (well, maybe a little bit) but Viktor had felt a spark of warmth when Yuuri grabbed his hand that night, simultaneously breaking all the rules and igniting Viktors world in a glorious blaze of splendour. 

Maybe Yuuri didn't know it yet, it could be a side of him that he's yet to discover. Something underneath the surface that was just begging to burst forth. Sure, Yuuri seemed a little shy but Viktor didn't realize that he lacked confidence in himself, it was hard to tell through a letter because words could only tell you so much but there was something present that alluded to that.

He just didn't know what. 

It was time to change that.

Afterall, if Yuuri didn't want to speak to him then why would he write back? He must have been intrigued too.

Viktors hand moved to the beat of his heart, spilling whatever came to mind onto the blank piece of paper. The sound of his pen writing was all that he could hear as he weaved his response to Yuuri. He had to restrain himself before he accidentally wrote an entire novel to Yuuri instead. 

He reread the letter and then once more to make sure he didn't say anything stupid or ridiculous, occasionally he glanced down at Yuuri's letter. As he skimmed through the two letters, something caught his attention as he was reading though Yuuri's letter again. 

'Oh no,' Viktor noticed an important detail, feeling the color drain from his cheeks. 'Birthday? I missed his birthday!'

Makkachin lifted her head up from her paws, letting out a bark as Viktor paced the study. She tilted her head in confusion as Viktor failed to pet her, she got up trotting over to him. Pacing along with him as she tried to get his attention. 

He felt bad for ignoring Makkachin but he was skimming his shelves of nicknacks and books wondering what to send to Yuuri as a belated birthday present. 

The letter had been dated yesterday meaning it had arrived this morning. It was too late to go into the capital and find something to send. Plus, he would have to take Mila and she was busy with Palace Guard duties, so was Georgi, and Yuri would most likely chase Viktor out of his room before Viktor could even ask. The last time he had entered Yuri's room uninvited, he had a book thrown at him. 

Viktor collapsed into his chair. 

Even if he did get a gift for Yuuri, it didn't matter. 

He'd probably given him something superficial or flashy, and he knew nothing about Yuuri's tastes. The gift would be in poor taste. He signed the letter, adding a postscript apologizing for not wishing Yuuri a happy birthday before he sealed it and placed it in the bin for the courier to come and collect. 

The paperwork on his desk seemed to be calling his name and he was reluctant to answer. 

Viktor picked up one of the documents, skimming over it as he tapped the pen on the table. If he wanted to make the fencing lesson he had with Yuri tomorrow then he would have to finish this pile of paperwork by the next hour. If he delayed, then the pile would only increase.

The amount of time that Viktor had spent with Yuri was getting smaller and smaller each passing year.

Viktor only pretended to be an airhead, pretending to trust the plastered on smiles that adorned the members of the court and parliament and feigning to agree to whatever people had planned for him. 

He knew that people were trying to put a wedge into their relationship. 

There were still members loyal to his uncle that wanted Yuri to sit on the throne instead of Viktor. Nobody said it, it was treason to do so but a small consensus was there that generally agreed to that. Yuri shouldn't have been held accountable for the mistakes of his father, he wasn't responsible but no matter how much Viktor and his parents tried to protect Yuri, the court and parliament had smeared him with the tainted legacy his father left behind. 

Viktor wouldn't lie, he did sometimes look at Yuri with guilt in his eyes. 

He had taken away his position as Crown Prince but his mother and father did it for the right reasons. Nobody would want the previous King's son to sit on the throne, especially with what his uncle did during his reign. Yuri would probably yell at him, telling him to get over it but Viktor was the one that had to hold onto that guilt. 

A son shouldn't have to stand trial for his father sins but this wasn't a fair world. 

Viktor was very young, he barely remembered the days when his uncle had ruled as king. All he remembered was the overall feeling of dread. Everything felt like it had been permanently grey until his parents had seized the throne in a coup not far after. 

The cracks in the foundation had already formed, no matter how much damage his parents tried to fix, the tattered remanents of his uncle's reign could be seen in the deepest part of the capital city where the light never reached. The royal family was the glue that kept Kievran from crumbling, they maintained the order and peace. 

One day Viktor would do the same but it was never just about ruling alone, the throne was designed to be ruled by two people. It took a strong partner to lead. It was like a dance, a very dangerous and political one. 

If Viktor misstepped in any way, he would send ripples throughout the Kingdom. Yuri, his parents, and his closest friends would be swept up in the first wave. 

Yuuri could either be his doom or his saviour, people could happily debate what he was but to Viktor, Yuuri was his escape. He was like the waves of the ocean, keeping Viktor calm and tranquil as the waves rolled over his lapsing at his feet. 

He would selfishly stay with him, ignoring the world for a few minutes at a time.

Viktor broke his habit of daydreaming when he was younger, instead focusing on his ever-growing duties. They had been a distraction and Viktor's attending was being demanded elsewhere. 

Yet, the more he thought of Yuuri, the more he slipped back into those daydreams and he'd been doing an awful lot of daydreaming lately.

Makkachin barked again, snapping him out of whatever his mind was wondering on. He scratched her behind the ears as she settled near his chair. He turned back to the paperwork, picking up his pen as he scribbled down some notes. 

He could only wait patiently before Yuuri wrote him back, until then, it was back to his princely duties. 

 

It was two days after Yuuri's twenty-first birthday did he finally received Viktor's letter.

He hoarded himself in his room, devouring the words with his eyes as he hid an eager smile away from Phichit. Yuuri pressed the letter to his chest, eyes softening as he held onto that feeling his chest that refused to go away. 

The previous letters were hidden away in a box that Yuuri kept and everyone else knew about.

These letters went on for one more month, giving Yuuri some warmth in the biting winds of the season that passed through the streets of Roma.

Yuuri was relieved that Viktor didn't want to stop writing to him. One small act of cowardice may have cost him the chance to get closer to Viktor. Everyone one Celestion's manor knew that Yuuri was writing to the Crown Prince of Kievren, most had kept their mouth shut while others actively encouraged him to keep writing. 

Viktor's words left Yuuri defenceless and caught him off guard. He learned so many things about Viktor that smashed every unrealistic expectation of him with every letter he received. Viktor wasn't the dazzling fairytale prince in his mind that he had built up after looking at one portrait and hearing several detailed rumours, Viktor was real and raw and so, so amazing. 

He learned he had a dog named Makkachin. 

His favourite colour was blue, followed up by grey.

He liked going on long walks in the summer. 

He loved to go skating during the winter.

His birthday was in December. 

He loved his family and friends more than anything in the world. 

Yet, the most fascinating thing he learned about Viktor was that he was so, so kind. It almost broke Yuuri's heart how sweet he was( and how sad he was.) He was so patient with Yuuri as he wrote about his day or his thoughts or how he wanted to see Yuuri again. He waited till Yuuri opened up his guarded his heart to him, he let Yuuri come forth and spill everything about him onto paper. 

It was dangerous, it was risky but Yuuri cherished everything he learned about him.

On Viktor's birthday, Yuuri enchanted a lavender rose and sent it to Viktor. He felt that sending a rose of all things may have been a bit too much but it had been fitting. Yuuri had cast a spell on it, ensuring that it would never wilt for as long as he should live. He left out the whole part about the rose being linked to his life force but Viktor had written back, ecstatic about his present. As well as the perilous mountain trek he endured but as long as Viktor loved it, Yuuri cared about little else.

The unknown feeling in his chest bloomed back into place one morning when he was reading Viktor's recent letter. His heart felt like it was trying to burst out of his chest and touch the moon. 

He wondered during some long and cold nights if what he was feeling was just a hopeless infatuation. Quickly he concluded it wasn't loved per say but it wasn't a negative feeling either. It wasn't amicable or sexual but something more pleasant---more real, like the dull burning of his soul marks. Viktor stirred feelings in Yuuri, stoking a flame in his chest that seemed to grow with each passing day. Love felt like a fantasy to Yuuri, something that he would never possess or feel. 

Although the thought of falling in love with Viktor wasn't a bad idea, Yuuri like that thought. Dangerous as it is.

Viktor was still the Crown Prince, he wouldn't fall for some minor prince of a far-off nation. 

Yuuri popped the bubble where his daydreams lie, pulling himself back into reality. Yuuri wasn't on Viktor's level. There were days, no matter how happy he was, that he considered to stop writing to Viktor but he quickly convinced himself out of that idea, realizing that he had become so used to him and to take that part of his life away felt like ripping a part of him off.

No matter how much he tried to hide from his thoughts, it always came down to one question; What was this?

Affection? Freindship? Love?

Love felt like a fantasy to Yuuri, something that he would never possess or feel. 

Seeing Yuuko and Takeshi fall in love and have children reminded Yuuri of the future he would never have.

The prophecy had always hung over him like a storm cloud, calling everything in Yuuri's life into question. Love was considered dangerous, a poison that would one day kill him. He had long given up on his soulmate, instead, he focused on ways to prevent the cruel prophecy that had fallen upon him. His childhood had died early by his hand, much to his mother sadness. He had thrown himself into his studies, his magic, his martial arts training, and his dance classes. 

There were days where he daydreamed though.

It was a guilty pleasure. 

He imagined falling in love with his soulmate, where he would meet them and what he would say. Yuuri would sit and simply pretend that things were normal, that his soulmate was normal. It was fickle, stupid, and childish. 

Minako-sensei had never let him slack, personally overseeing his training and education. Yuuri's heart was like fragile glass encased in lead, Minako-sensei had moulded him into a fine young man but the demons that haunted Yuuri's mind were something she couldn't bluff away. Yuuri could only learn to control them but nobody could ever really banish them. It was tough love, opposite to the unconditional love his mother provided but he was grateful. 

It was Minako sensei who had helped in providing him with the opportunity to seize his destiny into his own hands. He had a prophecy that had latched itself onto him but he had finally gotten sick of it controlling him. 

Just like his anxiety, he believed that he could control it. 

How naive of him. 

He wanted to fall in love but just not with his soulmate.

But with Viktor, suddenly everything felt muddled. It wasn't good but it wasn't bad either. He didn't know if Viktor had a soulmate. He doubted the fact that Viktor could be his soulmate, it just didn't add up. The gods had been cruel to Yuuri but they couldn't possibly have that sick of a sense of humour. 

Viktor probably had his own soulmate or had probably found them by now. Why would he be wasting his time on Yuuri? Didn't he have a soulmate to woo?

He rather flirtatious, constantly complimenting Yuuri and gushing over every detail he provided. Yuuri just learned to accept that Viktor, he was the crown prince, after all, he was just naturally charming. 

It wasn't just the compliments though (even if they were nice and Yuuri tucked his head into the crook of his arm, face red and burning.) 

Viktor was like falling snow, each word caressed his face and melted into him. The feeling felt close to flying. Yuuri was the bird and Viktor was the wind in his wings, carrying him into next spring. 

(Could he be anymore cheesier?)

With or without his knowledge, Yuuri gave a little tiny piece of himself away.

He just didn't realize this yet.

 

Each letter he received from Yuuri chipped a piece of ice from the thing that Viktor called his heart. 

Kievren was known to have uncommonly cold winters, given how most of the country was more northern than it's warmer counterparts. 

Snow had blanketed the streets of Rusburg when Viktor turned twenty-five. 

There was a party, small and with only people Viktor knew. 

The highlight of his birthday wasn't the presents or the cake or the music (although he did enjoy them) but it was the creme coloured envelope that sat on his desk. A small pouch next to it. 

He opened it and was surprised to see a lavender rose inside of it. It was small, about the size of his index finger but it looked fresh as if it had just been cut. He lifted it up to smell its sweet scent, a fond smile on his face. Yuuri did study plants as well as herbs but a rose had been surprising. It was unique but Viktor would treasure it above anything he had received tonight. 

 

'Dear Viktor,

Happy Birthday!  
I wasn't sure what you wanted to get for your birthday. I suppose the gift that I sent you is a bit underwhelming, probably nothing compared to the gifts you've received before but I remember you telling me that you liked roses. Unfortunately, blue roses are difficult to find.  
I found this one today. You'll be surprised how hard it is to find a rose, especially a lavender one, in winter. It wasn't an easy feat but I was able to find it while taking a trip to the mountains.  
Do you remember when you told me that you felt bad about missing my birthday and I told you that gifts didn't have to be grand to please someone?  
Well, I hope that it's true in this case.  
I'll tell you more about my trip into the mountains in my next letter. You'll never believe the herbs I was able to find in the dead of winter.  
Awaiting your letter,

Sincely,  
Yuuri Katsuki. 

P.S. The rose is enchanted so it'll never die. Isn't that amazing?! I learned the spell recently, it took some time but I finally got it right. I hope you love it.'

 

'He's so sweet,' Viktor thought as he picked up the small rose again, he lifted up to his lips, kissing it. 'I'd never thrown this away. Yuuri put so much work into preserving it. It's absolutely perfect. Of course, I love it!'

Each letter that passed between them made him yearn for spring so much that it hurt. It had only been a few months since that fateful ball, Viktor anxiously counted down the days until the snow would melt and the flowers would grow. Yuuri's words kept him going, providing the best kind of distraction at the end of the day. 

Sometimes, he would close his eyes for a second as he slipped away into his fantasy world. Yuuri was always beside him. Whether it was the beach watching the sunset or watching the peach blossoms in the garden or simply enjoying the starry night, Yuuri was right there. Sometimes he spoke to Viktor or he just simply laid with Viktor in silence. As long as Yuuri was beside him, he'd always feel at peace.

Yuuri had opened up to him gradually, sprinkling details about himself until he finally let Viktor into his life. He could still sense a little bit of hesitancy on Yuuri's side, Viktor didn't pull, he trusted Yuuri enough to let him know when it was time. 

Viktor hadn't hesitated to say something about himself. He dropped hints about things he liked, prompting Yuuri to ask ad Viktor to answer him. The strategy worked as Yuuri warmed up to him. 

Soon they joked about things and shared the things that shaped their lives. 

Yuuri was endless, he had so much to tell Viktor and Viktor wanted to know more. He learned so much about in time; his favourite foods, where he travelled so far, his interest in plants (earth elemental, duh), about a dog he had (a poodle nonetheless) and the various things he enjoyed about the west. 

His confidence wavered letter after letter, reflecting the events that made up his days. There were glimmers of how sick Yuuri was for home. Viktor didn't expect Yuuri to be the lonely type. He seemed to be surrounded by people who admired and respected him, he mentioned Phichit a number of times. Viktor assumed that there was nothing but anything amicable between them but he did feel a twinge of jealousy for the young Siam prince. 

(Viktor never thought of himself as possessive before.)

Phichit was dear to Yuuri as a friend and nothing else more. At least that's what Viktor picked up. 

Expressing himself and clearly communicating his feelings were never really hard for him but writing to Yuuri forced Viktor to be more creative with his word choices. 

In the beginning, the letters had been standard. 

Yuuri answered questions Viktor had in the previous letter, then he'd write something about his day, and finally end his letter casually. Viktor responded in the same way, flowery words and grand gifts couldn't help him now. He had to talk, to communicate. Express his intention (he was still working on that) while learning more and more about his Yuuri.

At least he had his charm, even Yuuri wasn't immune to that. 

He could imagine Yuuri blushing pink as he read Viktors letters.

Yuuri wasn't on his mind all the time but he did take up a portion of his thoughts. Anybody could see that the Crown Prince smiled more, his eyes shined brightly and some colour had returned to his face. The bitter winds of winter couldn't take that away and neither could those conniving politicians. Even Yuri noticed, although he never says anything. He just stares at him with this look in his eyes that's too wise for his age.

Maybe fate had finally smiled upon Viktor by sending him Yuuri?

Cliche but Viktor could only hope that it was true. He had until Spring to figure out if it was true or not. Fate was fickle, fooling around with the lives of mortals as it pleased. Either driving them insane or to the brink of tragedy. Viktor was fate's puppet, dancing to whatever tune it had written for him and Viktor could only go along with it. 

Either way, Viktor felt his heart beating again and it had been so, so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I didn't post last week because school and stuff but I did end up writing too much so I had to divide this chapter into three parts. So.......... it looks like this whole fic is going to be 27 chapters now. Yay!
> 
> If you liked this chapter don't hesitate to leave a kudos or a comment down below! I want to know how I'm doing so far! 
> 
> Have a nice day.


	6. Pink Camellia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pink Camellia: Longing for you.
> 
> Recommended Songs:  
> 'My Sweet Lord' - George Harrison  
> 'Stressed Out' - Twenty One Pilots

Spring was the time or rebirth, the time that the goddess Persephone blessed her mother with her presence fresh out of the underworld. The flowers bloomed, lovers roamed the parks, the birds flew, and life sprung anew ready to start itself over. 

For Yuri, spring was a real pain in the ass. 

When he wasn't sneezing due to the pollen, he was stuck with Viktor who insisted he spent the day with him in his study. 

He itched to go outside but quickly rethought that plan, Yuri wanted to spar with Mila but he remembered her talking about some girl she met and she wouldn't shut up about it. She wasn't as bad as Viktor but Yuri wanted to go an entire day without hearing a lovesick sigh. Georgi had the same problem but worse than Mila and Viktor combined, always talking about some girl named Anya that he was trying to court and failing miserably. The last thing Yuri needed was for Georgi to cry on his shoulder about how love was so cruel and to never fall in love or some other bullshit like that.

So here he was, left alone with Viktor who was disgustingly happy about some peasant or something like that. Yuri had rumors of Viktor's new plaything, some lowly nobody from nowhere that got way too drunk and danced with his. It was a dangerous but it was also very, very stupid; Viktor falling in love with some lowborn that's just after his crown and title crown---pathetic!

He glanced up from his book, realizing that Viktor had that look on his face again. His eyes were lazily skimming the document in his hand but Yuri could clearly see that the words weren't sinking into that silver head of his. 

He kicked the leg of Viktor's chair, a disapproving scowl on his face. 

Viktor was the Crown Pince for the love of god! He had responsibilities and royal duties and a million other things that were more important!

If Yuri was ever to meet this guy, he was going to make to give him a piece of his mind with some choice words and thinly veiled threats that were sure to make them piss themselves. Lillia wold disapprove but like hell Yuri was going to let Viktor screw himself over because he was distracted by some pig. 

"Yes, Yura?" Viktor asked his eyes blinking as if he had just woken up from a nap. 

"Get back to work," he said, rolling his eyes. "Stop thinking about that damn pig and actually concentrate, Viktor." 

"Who said I was thinking about Yuuri?"

So that was his name, huh?

Yuri sneered. "It's written all over your face, old man." 

"My face?" Viktor raised his eyebrow, an amused smile on his face. "This is my usual face."

Yuri could've assaulted Viktor easily with a thousand comebacks, each one of them flying right toward the target that he intended. Instead, he rolled his eyes again and let out a disgusted sound. If love made people change then Yuri made sure he'd never let that happen to him, soulmate be damned or otherwise. 

It wasn't worth it in his book.

Soulmates were a stupid concept, just because two people were destined to be together didn't necessarily mean that they were _meant_ to be together. Weren't people allowed to choose who they love or did the gods really not give them a choice?

"You're fooling nobody."

"Whatever you say." He responded wistfully.

They lapsed into another long silence, the only sound that could be heard was the scratching of Viktor's pen and the occasional turning of the page. Yuri kept sneaking looks at Viktor who was writing away, unaware of Yuri's critical analysis. 

The birds outside wouldn't shut up, no matter how sweet their song was, Yuri was going crazy.

His fourteenth birthday had passed recently, ushering winter to give way to spring. Yuri, according to his relatives, was still too young to officially do anything. Viktor had insisted for Yuri to let him improve his skills while he waited until he was old enough. He had two years until he was old enough to enlist in the military or be given a royal position, he never really spoke to Viktor or his family about it yet but he was so sick of being in court.

Viktor complained to Yuri countless times about the nobles and how they couldn't be trusted and blah blah blah.

He knew that already, Yuri didn't care per say but Viktor didn't hesitate to drill that into his head.

The servants would always whisper to each other, he had learned to pick up snippets of conversation. If Yuri was being talked about, it always had to do with his father or with what he supposedly did.

Nobody would tell him about what his father did but he knew it was grave. Even the servants wouldn't bring it up in front of him and they talked shit just about anybody. The royal scribes had been given implicit instructions from the King so that Yuri wouldn't gain access to any records. He didn't even know the man, he died before Yuri was even born. His mother hadn't even bothered to stick around, leaving him with his grandfather as soon as he was born before fleeing into the night. She would never come back for him, he'd given up on that.

For Yuri, his real family had been Nikolai, Yakov, Lilia, Viktor and his parents. They raised him, protected him, and loved him.

That was nothing but unconditional love. 

Yuri was not his father, he knew that too.

For now, Yuri could only wait. He could learn as much as he could from his family and Yakov. He'd use every opportunity to train and better himself for the future. Yuri didn't want the shadow of his fathers legacy looming over him, he wanted to banish it.

Viktor had more to teach him.

Yuri didn't understand why someone like Viktor would go for someone like Katsuki. With his foreign name and his equally foreign looks, he didn't seem spectacular to him. At least, that's what he thought until Viktor told him about the alleyway incident.

He'd never admit it, he'd rather take it to his grave than say he found Katsuki interesting. The image of him from the ball and from Viktor's recount didn't match up in his head at all. Regardless of how awesome Katsuki's skills are at magic, the fact still remained that nobody had heard of him. He could be some spy or assassin hired by one of Viktor's many enemies.

Yuri put his book down again, his mind had been too preoccupied to process the words on the page. Viktor was busy writing notes to look up at Yuri who was studying him intently behind his book.

There was a change in Viktor, something he noticed ever since he started writing those letters.

For one, Viktor actually smiled. Not that fake assed smile he's put on at court, the one where it looked like it hurt to do so. It was the smile that made Viktor look soft and vulnerable. There was this stupid gleam in his eyes too, so much excitement and passion burned there that it threatened to spill out. The change would've been subtle to others but to Yuri (who had grown up with Viktor for all of his life) it was like Viktor had awoken from some type of magical coma. Viktor did look happy, his eyes were brighter than usual and his shoulders weren't as stiff, it was like a weight was lifted off them. Yuri would never admit this to anybody but he really did want his cousin to be happy--but if love made Viktor happy then one day that same love would break his heart. He knew it was inevitable but Viktor was a grown ass man who could make his own decisions, even if they were stupid. 

Maybe love did change people? (Maybe it isn't in the way Yuri thought?)

Viktor carried sadness on his shoulders like an anchor, he was just good at hiding things behind a smile and a charming exterior. The subject of his soulmarks had never come up between them but Yuri had heard enough from his grandfather and aunt to piece it all together. It was tragic really but Yuri didn't even know half of the pain Viktor was going through but he could see it. 

Viktor wasn't fooling anyone, especially not Yuri.

 

"Books?" Phichit read off the list in his hands.

"Check!" 

"Clothes?"

"Check!" 

"Food?"

"Check?"

"Glasses?"

Yuuri reached up to his head, his fingers brushing over the lens of his glasses that were perched there. 

"Check!" 

"Alright then," Phichiy said, hopping off the table. He carefully folded the list, slipping it back into his pocket. "Everything is packed and ready!" 

Yuuri looked around his room, making sure he wasn't forgetting anything important. The bedsheets were set, his desk organized, and the plants on the window sill were drooping sadly. their stalks looking like they were about to snap at the sudden angle. 

That wasn't good.

Yuuri chuckled, reaching his hands out to the plants. The lilies turned towards him, perking up as he spoke to them in calm and docile tones. The vines wrapped themselves around his fingers tugging his attention away from the lilies as the mint plant ruffled its leaves bristling for attention. His table roses bloomed, trying it's best to keep Yuuri's attention away from the mint plant. He had grown each one of them for almost three years, nurturing them with love and care as tiny little sproutlings. He made sure they lived through the bitterness of winter until spring. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depends on who you ask) constantly using his magic on them had altered them in a certain way. 

It was like they developed a personality of their own, he could easily give each plant distinct personality traits. 

The lilies were the most innocent of his collection of plants, always dancing in the sun or bending forward to kiss Yuuri's hand when he was watering it. 

The vines were needy, always wrapping itself around his fingers and trying to pull his glasses away from him.

The table roses had been a gift from Leo, they were always blooming vibrant colours for him regardless of the season. 

The mint plant was something Yuuri brought to make the room smell nice, it wasn't his fault that made the entire room to reek of mint when it was happy.

It was kinda funny since according to his textbooks flowers weren't suppose to be partially sentient and well........ now they were. Yuuri didn't have the heart to reverse the effects, he was rather sentimental. Saying that they were attached to him was an understatement. 

Phichit wasn't exactly fond of them since the vines always try to trip him but he tolerated them enough. Afterall, it's not his fault that his hamsters decided that Yuuri's plants look like food!

"I'll be back soon," Yuuri said, gently tugging his hands free from the ivy's grip. "Don't worry, you'll have Phichit to keep you company."

The table rose scrunched up, clearly dissatisfied by Phichit and his hamsters. Yuuri pulled away after saying his goodbyes to his beloved plants.

Yuuri had his bag packed for the Helvetia trip that would last for about a week. He had been invited to shadow someone at the Royal Apothecary there and attend a few important seminars with several professors who had read about only in his books. He'd even written Viktor about him leaving just in case he decided to send him a letter. 

He really wanted to see Viktor again, it was spring and he had promised. 

It would be odd to not be expecting a letter almost every day but Yuuri had to leave. It wouldn't be right to miss a chance like this. He would be making this trip alone. Nobody would be accompanying him meaning he would have to be extra careful. 

"Wait!" Phichit called out, nearly tripping over the vines. "Tickets?"

He reached into his pocket pulling out a single train ticket that had his seat number and named on it.

"I got it," Yuuri said as he lifted his suitcase. "Anything else?"

Phichit leaned closer, "Weapons?" 

Yuuri reached down, lifting up the hem of his pant, exposing the set of daggers that was carefully tucked into his boots. Yet another gift from Minako and he knew how to use them with deadly accuracy. He couldn't always use his magic or his fists, sometimes he would have to use his blades. 

He nodded solemnly. "Check."

Phichit quickly reverted back into his chipper self.

"Alrighty then, Yuuri. You know the drill. Take care of yourself, don't talk to strangers or take any candy! And try not to seduce another Prince while you're over there, I don't think Prince Viktor could handle it!" 

Yuuri laughed, trying to hide his burning face as he bid Phichit goodbye at the door before getting into the coach Celestino had called for to take Yuuri to the train station, he insisted coming with him to make sure his ward didn't meet with any mishaps on his journey. He had reiterated the importance of Yuuri blending into the crowd and to not attract any unnecessary attention to himself. As entertaining as the ball in Kievren had been, Celestino was still trying to redirect rumours that Yuuri had inadvertently caused. 

He didn't blame the young man. Everyone had a blunder but Yuuri needed to be careful, nobody but him and a few other knew Yuuri as a Prince. 

Yuuri looked out the window of his compartment as the buildings of Roma blurred into villages then into everlasting wheat fields and pastures. He shared the carriage with an elderly woman who spent most of her time sleeping and another man who was too busy reading his book to acknowledge Yuuri. At least they were quiet sparring him the pain of an awkward conversation. 

If anybody wanted to reach Helvetia, they would have to go north and then pass through several mountain ranges. He had taken the same route to get through Kievren. 

This journey would take about three hours, give or take. 

All Yuuri could do was stare at the scenery as he fought the urge to fall asleep. He didn't want to miss his station just because he decided to doze off.

He wondered what his parents were up to. His sister had sent him a letter which had arrived last night for him. The letter wasn't out of the ordinary, she told him that Vichan missed him and that his parents were still waiting for him to visit and ect. 

He felt guilt stab him like a knife.

The journey back home would take about two weeks. It would take a very long train ride and then a ship to get back to Oyeshima. 

He knew that it was a very poor excuse but the truth was that he didn't want to go back because he just couldn't.

Not yet, anyway.

Yuuri had a set of goals that he wanted to accomplish before he went back to Oyeshima, going back with empty hands would only prove to the nobles that Yuuri should just stay behind the palace walls. Yuuri still had his pride intact, fragile as it was. He wanted to go back to Oyeshima, different, stronger----more resilient so that he could show those nobles that he was worthy to be the second crown prince of his kingdom instead of a so-called burden to his parents. 

He wanted to heal people one day, even wrote a book about medicinal herbs. The only way to achieve that was to stay here and further his studies till he learned so much that his brain would explode from the sheer amount of knowledge. 

That was just one of the reasons to why he didn't want to go home. 

The prophecy was another. 

He still had three years before the prophecy, he needed to be ready. 

When Yuuri turned twenty-four, he would have a choice; he'd have to either run away from his soulmate or kill them. 

He was ready for the latter, he didn't spend years training how to fight to run away. He was determined to face the threat head on because this was his life and he wanted to wretch his away from fates hand before she could do any more damage to him or he people he loved. 

The thing was that Yuuri wasn't a brave man. He never considered himself to be. He's always been a bit scared, maybe a little cowardly at times. Ever since he was a child, someone needed to give him a push, sometimes a hard shove for him to realize things. Having a glass heart was utterly terrible, just as worse as his own prophecy. 

He hated it.

Yuuri was strong (physically at least) but however, just not courageous.

He had hoped that coming to Calabria would fix that problem but Yuuri knew in his heart that things were never that easy.

The sun rose sharply into the sky indicating that it was noon, one more hour and Yuuri would arrive at Helvetia. The train was travelling slowly through the mountains taking long turns and going through carved out tunnels, which temporarily cast the entire railcar into darkness till the tracks broke through the mountains, breaking its way into the lush greenery of Helvetia's countryside that captivated Yuuri's eye instantly. He had read so much about this country and it's natural wonders but seeing with his eyes made the pictures pale in comparison.

Just looking at the vast field made him anxious to leave the carriage for some fresh air as the green hills and low rivered valleys rolled by.

Two hours or ten, Yuuri never liked being cooped up for long periods of time. 

He needed to be near nature. His magic was tied directly to the earth, afterall, the closer he was to it the more powerful he could be.

As the lush and green countryside gave way to the outskirts of the capital, he took out the letter that he had received last week from the Chief Botanist which was safely tucked away in his notebook. 

The letter told him that there would be a coach waiting for him when he arrived.

Yuuri kept his hand on his bag protectively, his eyes open as he snaked through the crowds of people with places to go. It wasn't that hard to find his coach, he just had to look with the one that had the seal of the royal apothecary brandished on its side. The driver took one look at Yuuri before taking his bag and loading it away, Yuuri stepped into the coach mumbling a quick thanks to the driver.

Several shops caught Yuuri's eye as the streets raced by, he made a mental note to come back and visit them before leaving. Maybe even buy something for Phichit while he was here. 

(Or Viktor if he had the time.)

Helvetia capital city was as beautiful and big as it's mountains. Every brick, every building, was dripping with rich history adding a unique atmosphere to the whole city. The center of the city featured the palace with red and gold towers piercing the blue sky, dwarfing everything below it. It was truly magnificent and one of a kind, too bad Yuuri wouldn't be allowed inside of it. Most of his time would be spent with various botanists and through the vast yet beautiful greenhouses.

It was no wonder that Helvetia was hailed as the most breathtaking of countries. 

The carriage came to a stop at the gates of the palace and Yuuri felt his neck starting to hurt trying to look up the walls. He clutched the strap of his messenger bag as the carriage once again came to a stop at the Royal Herbology and Botany building. Yuuri took a deep breath, calming his nerves as he stepped out of the carriage. There wasn't anybody waiting for him here (which was odd) so Yuuri assumed that he would have to find the Chief Botanist to give him directions. The letter really didn't give him instructions so it looked like Yuuri was on his own. The driver didn't say much, he simply handed Yuuri his suitcase and got back on top of his perch before speeding away, leaving Yuuri alone in front of the daunting building. 

Huh, guess not everyone was as friendly in this country as he thought. 

 

Christophe Giacometti wasn't a simple man, he knew that his taste was expensive as it was exquisite. So how was it that everytime that he looked at the Chief Botanist, he felt like gold and silver and any other precious stone in his collection paled in comparison with him. 

He had once read a book about a tale of two lovers who were born to different parts of society, their story was tragic with constant miscommunications and never ending family drama that in the end tear them apart. It was an inevitable outcome but easily preventable. Chris loathed the book, not for it's unhappy ending but for the simple fact that the lovers couldn't be together just because one was born noble and the other was not.

It was stupid. 

Chris could ponder endlessly about the rules that governed the stigma of the public but in the end, it would change nothing. 

But he never cared for those rules. What did the law have to do with one's soulmate? Or love for that matter? He loved who he loved because it was that simple to him and fate had given him this man, how could he refuse what fate granted him just because of what society thought of highborn marrying lowborn. 

Those laws and rules had been completely and utterly archaic.

Good thing that Chris was good at not following the rules. 

"Christophe," Masumi said without looking up from his clipboard. "You're staring again, Mon Tresor."

On the inside, Chris melted into a steaming puddle goo. He loved the pet names, almost revelled in it. It did things to him. However, he maintained his charming exterior of a flirtatious playboy as he slinked over to his lover, wrapping his arms around his waist as he rested his head on his shoulder. 

"That's because of all the flowers in this garden," He whispered, close to his ear, "I'm staring at the most beautiful flower of all."

Cliche? Yes. But it was effective.

He noticed the darling shade of scarlet that crept under his lover's sunkissed skin, setting his otherwise calm face blazing. Chris would never ever tire of this, these quiet moments with the love of his life were all needed.

Chris would gladly give up his entire wealth and his own titles if it meant being with the person he loved.

Society be damned. 

This was his soulmate.

The peaceful moment, however, was ruined when the doors of the greenhouse opened with a loud creak, ruining the moment. Chris turned his head so that he could properly glare at whoever had interrupted.

"I'm sorry for interrupting," The person said. "I'm looking for the Chief Botanist? The others told me to look for him in here......"

Chris looked up with his best 'I'm-going-to-promptly-and-politely-murder-you' face only to stop when he saw the familiar figure standing the doorway of the greenhouse, a tacky messenger bag and a suitcase in hand. He raised his eyebrow at the light bags underneath his eyes. The poor boy looked like he had lost sleep and Chris had a vague guess on who cost Yuuri Katsuki precious sleep. Or maybe it was stress and Chris was thinking too much of it. Yuuri could've been very well stressed from studying. From the letter he was getting from Viktor, Yuuri was studying Botany as well as Herbology. 

It did make sense why he would turn up here of all places. 

"Yuuri?"

"Duke Giocometti?!" 

Masumi looked at Chris and Yuuri with confusion before clearing his throat. He glanced at Chris before turning to look at Yuuri. 

"Hello, I suppose you're Yuuri Katsuki." He said, disentangling himself from Christ. "Welcome to Helvetia. Sorry if I wasn't there personally to pick you up, our hands have been a bit tied up."

Chris could've easily said something but opted to keep his mouth shut, besides, he liked it when his lover was in his 'professional' mode. It was quite attractive (and sexy) if he did say so. 

'Poor Viktor,' He thought as he watches young Yuuri Katsuki look around the massive greenhouse in awe. 

A sly smile made its way to his face as he internally gloated. 

"So good to finally be able to see you here in Helvetia," Chris said, exchanging the sly smile for a welcoming one. "And here I thought I'd never heard from you again."

"Chris," Masumi said, wrapping his arm around his waist. "Be nice."

"I am being nice, mon cher." Chris whispered back before giving his husband a knowing wink. So many plans and such little time. A shame really that he didn't have more time but Chris was known to be quick when it came to put things together on short notice. "I'll leave Yuuri in your capable hands. Take care of him, I have plans for him later on." 

Chris exited the building blowing a quick kiss to his lover. 

Yuuri didn't comment as he picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. 

"Ignore him," He said, shaking his head with a small smile as he lead Yuuri outside of the greenhouse to the main building. "Chris can be a bit too much at times but you'll get used to. I'll show you where you'll be staying this week. There's so much I have to show you."

 

It was a warm spring morning when the pit of snakes below him hissed as he stood above them and their petty politics, patiently waiting for them to stop rattling their tails so he could finally speak. 

It was Yakov's booming voice that finally silenced their insistent hissing. 

The issue of the day had been about a food shortage in one of their outer cities and villages near the northern border. The recent winter had brought the unexpected bitterly cold winds from the mountains, freezing the ground solid and killing most of the livestock. If an order wasn't passed then they would be facing a famine in the north soon.

If they let it go unchecked, an uprising could occur. 

Viktor had spent most of the week personally drafting a piece of legislature with a few chice allies to ensure that the northern region would receive livestock, grain, and help. 

The only problem was that the crown could only spare so much, so Viktor had asked the noble's to lend their support. Luckily for him, there were enough people who had agreed to lend support to the northern regions but for the bill to pass there had be a majority. 

Hence the problem now, the majority that thought the north could survive on their own. 

Viktor had to bite his tongue when a noble objected, stating that the north was just over exaggerating and that they weren't the most fertile of the regions, hence why should his majesty even worry about them. His blood boiled at their disregard of their own countrymen. One noble, who Viktor knew for being a bit of a conservativist, stated that Viktor should focus on strengthening their already strong military than worrying about domestic issues that were 'beneath' him, he had then gone on to talk about foreign matters that had little to do with the current topic before on of Viktor's supporters had spoken up.

Then it had been total chaos. Viktor didn't know how his parents managed parliament, much less an entire country. 

Didn't they see the problems of what would happen if they ignored this food shortage?! 

Or did they just not care?

The last civil war had been started when his uncle and his 'supporters' hoarded most of the grain and wood supply during a previous war, causing many people to starve. That winter had been particularly colder than the winters before, just as this one had been, some of the major cities managed to survive but it was the villages that took the brunt of the shortage of fuel and food and everything else that was necessary to survive. It wasn't long before their cries of help turned into cries of anger.

His parents took advantage of the chaos, seizing power in a coup that lead to the downfall of his uncles. 

He never knew exactly how his uncle had died, some said he killed himself but others had whispered that his parents arranged for his death. Viktor didn't care, there were more important things to worry about. 

Let the bones stay in his cursed grave. 

Viktor didn't want another civil war on his hands when he ascended the throne, they were still dealing with the effects of the previous one. The last one had shaken the monarchy to its very core, the cracks still apparent in the foundation. His uncle may be gone but that didn't mean that his supporters had left, they were his ghost, staying behind still blinded by the corrupt ideals that his uncle had represented. He, regrettably, lived through them. Many of his Uncle's supporters made Viktor's life more difficult than it had to be. 

He had a drawer full of various drafts he wanted to bring to the parliamentary meetings. However, Viktor knew that bringing some of his 'progressivist' ideas would only alienate him further. 

He needed allies, corrupt or not to effectively rule one day. When his father would give him the crown, Viktor needed to be ready to enforce the laws that were his sovereign duty to uphold. He needed to command respect from these nobles who were so obviously wrong.

Thus the parliamentary meeting had ended in a bitter stalemate, and so Viktor had to wait till next week for parliament to reconvene so that he could speak next week.

He left the building, scowling as frost enveloped the inside of the coach, spreading across the windows blocking his view. Viktor didn't care and Yakov didn't say anything as he slipped on his gloves and scarf, silent like the grave on the entire ride back to the palace. Viktor easily could get lost in an ocean of his own thoughts and insecurities during times like this.

Someone just had to pull him out before he drowned. 

"Vitya," Yakov said before he got out of the carriage, "You had the right idea."

It wasn't enough.

"But not the support," Viktor said, hollow and nearly defeated. 

"We'll try again next week. I'll do my damndest to make sure that this passes, too." Viktor said nothing as he stared at Yakov with eyes that looked too old and too tired, it was unsettling but he had seen the same eyes before. "Send my regards to Duke Giacometti."

Translation: Go take some time off and relax. 

Viktor did that but it's didn't mean that he was relaxed. 

That had been two days ago. Viktor had come down to Helvetia in poor spirits, mostly bitter and lacking in self-esteem. If Viktor was going to be king one day then how the hell was he suppose to be one if he couldn't pass a single fucking order through parliament to better serve his people. If he let those nobles walk over him then he wasn't worthy to be king.

He even missed a letter from Yuuri that arrived one day after he left. 

Viktor would sell his soul if it meant that he had the chance to see Yuuri again. It was spring, they promised each other that they would see each other when it was spring. 

There was still so much he wanted to ask the dark haired man.

Christophe brought him a glass of cooled wined, he set the glass on the table before sitting down across from Viktor. 

"What's with that face?" He asked, drumming his fingers on the wooden surface as he waited for his answer.

"What face?" Viktor replied, in his usual 'what-is-it-now-Chris' tone he had reserved for his friend. He didn't even bother to look up from the book he was reading. "This is my usual face."

Now, where did Chris hear that before?

There was an air of uneasiness that surrounded Viktor, reaching into his vivid blue eyes, turning a calm sea into a raging storm. the cracks in his mask were visible today, they split wide open showing the true emotion and depth of someone so perfect. It was like looking at the sun hidden by the clouds, glaringly beautiful even if it hurts. It wasn't a habit for Chris to pry his royal friend, no matter how concerned he was and he wasn't about to start now. 

He made a sound of acknowledgement instead, leaving Viktor to stew in his thoughts. 

The silence dragged on as Chris waited patiently for Viktor to snap, allowing himself to feel something genuine for once in his life. The words were at the tip of his tongue and he held in his excitement as he put together his plan carefully. 

Viktor finally looked away from the window, coming down from his thoughts. 

"I'm not okay," He admitted, more to himself than to Chris. Chris raised his eyebrow, gesturing for Viktor to elaborate his statement. "Just in case you want to know, I'm not okay." 

"Good thing you're here, then," Chris said, sliding the glass of wine closer to Viktor. "You can relax."

"Would drinking really help me?"

"No," At least he was honest. "But you do need to relax."

"How can I possibly relax?" Viktor looked down at the glass with defeat before pushing it away once again.

Chris frowned at Viktor's shoulders which were rigid and tense. He could understand when his friend was coming from, being Viktor's friend for the past decade or so had helped him to recognize when something upset Viktor. 

"Viktor, I know you're frustrated but sometimes you need to understand that you can be a bit stubborn. You can't always put everything else before you."

"Oh? Me? Stubborn?!" Viktor exclaimed as he put down his book, followed by a: "Ha!"

"Don't play coy with me, Nikiforov. You know I'm right," Chris said, narrowing his eyes as he leaned forward. Sometimes Viktor needed a good shove and Chris never failed to deliver. "Viktor, when was the last time you were actually happy? Genuinely happy about something or someone, I mean?"

The first image that came to mind was the shy smile that Yuuri threw his way just before leaving him once again. It simultaneously caused his heart to ache and soar at the same time. He wanted to see Yuuri again so badly it hurt, the last letter he received from him was still tucked away in his pocket.

Yuuri and Viktor had been in constant correspondence with each other for almost half a year. Each letter he received from Yuuri was like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. Every word revealed a piece of Yuuri that Viktor found himself hanging onto, each sentence was like a knife in the heart and each paragraph helped Viktor to understand the man who had swept him off his feet. Viktor didn't hold back, he didn't want to. He just wanted to fall even though everyone suggested him not to. He felt like he was writing a small part of his soul when he sent Yuuri a letter and then feeling empty till the next one arrived. 

"Happy?" Viktor echoed, his eyebrows scrunched together deep in thought. 

"Last September?" Chris reminded him of the best night of his life, taking a sip as he did so. "You were certainly more than happy that night."

"I have no idea what you mean." He said, deadpan.

The mask had fallen for a second without Viktor's knowledge and Chris had keen enough eyes to see what lay underneath it. Poor Viktor. So much to say and no idea how to say it. Chris saw right through him, he always did even if Viktor was unaware of it as well as everyone else.

He'd like to keep it that way.

It was a gift to read people, he didn't like wasting it.

"Oh, Viktor," Chris said, a catlike grin spreading across his face. One might even call it predatory. "I think you know exactly what I mean."


	7. Freesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freesia: Trust
> 
>  
> 
> Suggested Songs:  
> 'The Way You Look Tonight' - Frank Sinatra  
> 'Thankful' - Meltycannon  
> 'Masquerade Waltz' - Aram Khachaturian

Yuuri's day started with him waking up before dawn and staring up at the grey ceiling till he swung his legs over the side of the bed to get ready. 

Have breakfast, meet with the Chief Botanist in the greenhouse, study some plants with other professors, take some notes, then come back for dinner and try to socialize a bit before he went back to his room to study. 

Rinse and repeat. 

Since he was here with special permission, he wasn’t allowed access to certain areas of the palace. He, as well as the other students, had been confined to the massive royal greenhouse that dwarfed the dorm buildings and the impressive garden that boasted several variants of flowers that had been native to Helvetia and its neighbouring kingdoms. 

There were moments where he would wake up in the middle of the night where he remembered he wasn't in Roma. The sweet and poignant smell of the mint was missing as well as the subtle aroma of the tea rose. There was always that sting of homesickness he felt. Roma---mainly the people he had come to call his friends---had somehow inched its way into his heart. It had been just over three years since he came to Calabria, Oyehsima was still his home but somehow the city grew on him as well as the residents of Celestino’s manor. 

As much as he wanted to go back, he remembered why he came here. 

A letter from Viktor would’ve helped to lift his spirits but he pushed Viktor back into the corners of his mind so that he could concentrate. He had a job to do. It had been difficult because how could he not think of Viktor and his gorgeous blue eyes and his warm smile and his---Yuuri cupped his face in his hands as he turned pink during the middle of breakfast. It had taken him a full five minutes to stop thinking of Viktor, every thought just seemed to come back to that gorgeous yet charming man.

Viktor was a distraction. 

(A very pretty distraction.)

Thankfully, one of the girls--Ketty--- in the group had pulled him away in time for their next lesson in the main greenhouse. 

He had learned so much in these past four days than he ever dreamed he could obtain. The knowledge would prove to be valuable in the future. It was on the fifth day where he was observing a herbologist as he identified several poisonous plants and stated their symptoms. Yuuri glanced up every second or so to scribble down what he was talking about. 

"Aconite," The Chief Herbologist said in a matter-in-fact tone, who was a balding man with glasses. He pointed at the vicious purple flowers. It looked innocent enough but Yuuri knew better. He could feel it, there was a certain energy that originated from it, the type that was malicious and harmful. "They are known to be rather poisonous. All the species of this plant contain an active poison, Aconitine--one of the most formidable poisons which have yet been discovered; it exists in all parts of the plant, but especially in the root."

"And its cure?" One woman asked to Yuuri's right. 

"Twenty minims of Tincture of Digitalis given if available," He said with a wave of his hand. "Simple stuff, really. Having a bottle of it on hand is standard. Digitalis is useful in a variety of medicinal treatments." 

He then went onto to describe the symptoms of Aconitum poisoning as well as how to prepare a cure. Yuuri’s hand throbbed by the end of the lesson as he finally put down the pen in his hand. At least the effort was worth it, his notes were detailed and organized. The rest of the day had been similar, various different professors and practising doctors came giving various lectures about medicinal herbs and their importance. 

Yuuri snuck back after lunch to add more details to his notebook, careful to slip past the guards and settle himself near the Aconite. The poor leather book in his lap had been filled to the max with pages and Yuuri wondered if he should buy another one before this one burst. The Chief Botanist had stumbled upon Yuuri’s overstuffed journal that he carried around at all times. He had taken the time to look over his work, quite impressed by how organized and detailed it was, and commenting on the various illustrations littered throughout the book to a very flustered Yuuri who stuttered out thanks. 

Yuuri never really spoke of his desire to publish a book on medicinal herbs one day. There were plenty of books on Western Herbology and Botany, as well as in the East but not about both. Yuuri was determined to change that. The research was going to take time but he was off to a good start. 

Writing a book wasn’t easy. 

Having information was one thing but to put it together in a way that helped future generations of apothecaries and botanists was a whole other thing. 

As Yuuri was sketching a picture of the Aconite from earlier, Chris had crept into the greenhouse. His husband followed, slightly exasperated but listened to what the blond man was saying. 

Yuuri really wasn't the one to comment or judge, but he found it genuinely sweet when Chris would come down to visit Masumi during lunch. These two were so obviously in love. In a way, it reminded him of his parents. 

The girls who invited Yuuri to sit with them for lunch had continuously gushed about the both of them as they strolled out of site. Another one of the girls Yuuri met today (Yulia her name was) told him about how these two had met. It wasn't an extravagant story, really. They had simply shaken hands when they met for the first time and Chris glanced down to see the roses that hailed the both of them as soulmates. It wasn't just the meeting but the fact of the two of them being together had created a bit of a controversy, Chris was a man of the Giacometti house meaning he was a Highborn and his lover was the Royal Botanist but he still came from a humble farming couple on the outskirts of the kingdom, meaning that he was a lowborn.

There wasn't a law explicitly stating that a highborn couldn't marry a lowborn but a collective social stigma had taken its place over the years and years of traditions and customs that it was practically the law in every sense but the word. IT was another major difference between his home and here, there were no laws forbidding the marriage of Highborns or Lowborns or whatever; Oyeshima heavily believed that one's soulmate was the soul will of the gods and t go against would be folly. 

(But _that_ is another issue entirely.)

But Chris, he didn't give a damn about what the public thought. It really wasn’t his nature to care what people thought of him if he had the chance he’d strip down and dance with a pole when he got drunk. 

But it’s where the Queen came it that the story got interesting. 

There were rumours flying around that said one day he went directly to the Queen of Helvetia herself and stated that he was going to marry this man because he loved him and that it would be the biggest mistake of his life if he didn't. The Queen, who had a lowborn lover, sympathised with him and used this opportunity to tear downs the walls that kept people apart. She had blessed the marriage by her presence at the wedding, silencing anyone who wanted to oppose the union.

They were married by that spring.

It wasn’t soon after that she too married her longtime lover. 

Thanks to the Queen and Chris, many of the archaic belief of a highborn and lowborn refusing to marry due to their status had been cast into doubt. If the Queen herself could marry her soulmate who was a Lowborn then why couldn’t anybody else? 

They made history. 

There was change, not much of it but just enough to keep the ball rolling for future change.

"Yuuri!" Chris called out as he approached him. 

Yuuri greeted him, standing up. His thighs were starting to stiffen up from crouching for so long. He brushed off the dirt on his trousers before putting his notebook away. Yuuri looked up to see Masumi trailing behind Chris, their hands entwined proudly showing off the red roses that adorned their hands' right next to their rings. 

Yuuri felt the skin above his heart burn, he ignored it blaming it on the heat. He knew better than that though, it was never so simple when it came ti him and his marks.

Although public displays of affection wasn’t really a thing back in Oyeshima and Yuuri may have lived in the Western kingdoms for almost three years but some customs were a bit hard to grasp. 

"How is Helvetia treating you?"

"Fine," Yuuri replied, he wanted to leave so that he didn’t interrupt their time any further. He remembered when Yuuko and Takeshi were courting each other, Yuuri being a bit younger had been sent along with them by the adults to make sure they didn’t do anything stupid. It had been extremely awkward for Yuuri as well as his friends. "Your country is absolutely beautiful. Too bad I have to leave soon. I never really got a chance to explore the city. Perhaps next time"

"Next time, I'll personally take you on a tour myself," Chris stated. Out of curiosity, he asked; "When are you leaving, Yuuri?" 

"Oh," Yuuri said, absently. "Tomorrow night."

"What?"

"Well, I do have a train to catch and all. Plus, I----"

"You should stay," Chris blurted out quickly. He turned to his husband who tilted his head in confusion. Chris flashed him a knowing smile and a wink before turning around to look at an equally confused Yuuri. "For two more days, at least. Please?"

"Chris, I really have to go." He said in a near perfect deadpan.

"You know, the Spring Ball is tomorrow night," Masumi said, he squeezed Chris's hand in acknowledgement. Let him handle this. "It's a masquerade. I was hoping that you would come. I’ve invited the other students as well. It very beautiful and the Queen will be there as well."

Yuuri was trying to rapidly think of a way out of this. 

Balls or parties or any type of large social gathering wasn't his type of thing, he was someone who enjoyed somewhere quiet without anyone to interrupt him. The last major Ball he went to was in Rusburg and he still didn't remember what he did when he was drunk, Viktor had told him that Chris and he danced the tango before outright asking Viktor for a dance in front of everybody. 

His face still heated up as he thought of that. 

Although, he wouldn't mind dancing with Viktor again. This time more proper and not under the influence of alcohol. 

The outcome of that night had been unexpected but still, Yuuri didn't like making a fool of himself. He was relieved that Phichit wasn't with him. He'd say yes to the party before Yuuri could come up with a legitimate excuse. 

"I'd love to," He started, feeling a little bad that he was turning down his request. "But I would have to refund my ticket and book a new--." 

"I’ll take of it," Chris said with a beaming smile. “My people will see to it that you’ll get your money back.”

Oh. Well, that’s unusually generous of Chris to do for him. 

"B-but--" Yuuri stammered. "I don't have any formal wear with me."

"Oh?" Masumi raised his eyebrow. "I'm sure we can find you something by tomorrow night."

"That's very kind of you but---"

"Yuuri," Chris placed a hand on his shoulder. His green eyes seemed to glimmer with a sense of determination Yuuri couldn’t understand. "Please come, I promise you won't regret it. Helvetians are known to be quite friendly. My husband and I will be there to keep you company if it makes you feel better." 

"I don't want to intrude." He murmured. 

"You're not intruding," Chris said, tapping his nose. "You're being invited."

 

 

Smile. 

Say something witty. 

Converse in polite conversation.

Make a generic excuse. 

Move on. 

That was the best way to socialize according to Viktor.

He liked to keep the conversations short to the point but make sure to charm the pants of the person he was talking to. Lillia didn't waste her time on him just to be some airhead who blurted out his opinions left and right, he took what she taught him even if it nearly drove him mad. 

Viktor had perfected socializing down to an art. 

Countess Something-Unpronounceable and Count Who-Gives-A-Damn bowed before they released their claws, allowing Viktor to drift amongst the crowd of pastel colours and questionable fashion choices. It was a masquerade ball after all so he could look past the odd choice in costumes. Pearly smiles were tossed his way, enticing him with a request for a dance or something more with their rich scents of honey and wine. He was quick to dodge their advances, ducking through the crowds till he finally made his way behind a giant plant, hiding amongst the foliage until Chris arrived (Gods only know what him and his husband were up to) and save him from the evening that he wasn’t obligated to stay for but it would be wise to attend. 

"I'll see you later tonight," Chris said, picking up his jacket. Viktor stood still as the attendants went over his hair and helped him look presentable. Viktor’s hands had been busy with reading over several drafts of his speech that he was to give to parliament when he returned to Kievren. Something was bothering him about it but he just couldn’t decide what to change. "You can handle the crowds easily." 

Chris had this air of nonchalance that Viktor envies. Unlike him, he didn't have to even try to look calm and composed. He was just naturally so. Lillia would've been interested, Viktor did always think that Chris and Lillia meeting would be an unstoppable force meeting an unmovable object. It was either end in flames or tears on his part. 

He shuddered, let's not think of that. 

"You're leaving me to the wolves?" Viktor held his hand over his heart in a mocking fashion, the back of his hand pressed against his forehead as he did so. "I thought the both of us were going down together?" 

"Change of plans, mon ami." 

Viktor narrowed his eyes, the attendant continued to button up his black and silver vest as. He glanced at Chris in the mirror, he just smiled.   
He knew Chris for a long time, he had even been the best man at his wedding. He could tell when Chris got a crazy idea, it leads them constantly to trouble when they were teenagers. His eyes would get this type of mischievous gleam that Viktor had become wary of and soon, trouble just 'happened' to find them.

"Oh?" 

"Don't fret, Vitya." Chris winked, blowing him a kiss. "I'm just getting my darling husband. Oh, and don’t forget to wear the mask." 

That had been at least two hours ago and still, there was no sign of Chris or his husband. 

Thankfully the press wasn't here to torment Viktor into madness. It was a boon that the Queen of Helvetia absolutely loathed having the press at any major social gathering such as this. Viktor was thankful for it, he wasn't in the mood to deal with the press. He already had run into them when he arrived via train a few days ago, they had been staked outside on the platform like vultures, eager to pick up scraps of juicy gossip that they could sink their fangs into. As soon as his feet touched the concrete, they started to shout questions at him left and right without any signs of stopping. Their pesky cameras nearly blinding him.   
He really did hate the press sometimes. 

Most of them had been obvious ones such as "Why were you here?" or "What will you be wearing to the Spring Ball?" or his personal favourite: "Did you bring a plus one, your majesty?" 

Of course, the press would be interested in Viktor's stagnant love life. 

He had someone to warm the bed once in awhile but after a night of passion and rolling around they usually left in the morning. He always suspected that Yakov had played a part in keeping his one night stands silent. 

Mila had pushed them to the side, pulling Viktor forward towards his waiting cab. One group of reporters hadn't been curious about the superficial things, they stood near the entrance, looking on menacingly. They were here for the real news, Viktor could tell from the hungry look in their eyes. 

It would've frightened a normal person but not him. He faced down a stubborn parliament before, a determined reporter he could handle. 

"Prince Viktor," The reporter called out, their vice shrill as he waved his recorder into his face. "What's your opinion on the food shortage that occurring in your country?"

Straight to the point, it was almost surgical. This particular breed of reporter didn't pull their punches, they went right to the source. Once the other reporters got a whiff of the question, their focus shifted from glamorous title to politics in a heartbeat. 

_"Has Parliament agreed on anything as of yet or they still wasting time?"_

_"Are you aware of the fact that your own people are suffering? How does that make you feel?"_

_"Do you have anything to say about the situation, your majesty?"_

"No comment," Viktor muttered over and over again. Mila shoved her way through the crowd with her impressive strength, nearly throwing Viktor into the carriage that was waiting for him before barking out some orders to his bodyguards. 

Usually, he would smile, charm the reporters with a dazzling smile he had patented and then move onto the next question but right now he was exhausted. He had stayed awake the entire train ride, revising over the draft of the legislative bill he wanted to pass. If he was going to help his people to the north then he would have to strengthen the bill, turning paper into iron and ink into steel. Even now, in the ballroom, he could feel his fingers twitch. Not from the rapid tempo of the music but to hold a pen, he wanted to return to his room and continued to finish the legislature. 

There was just so much on his mind right now, everything felt like it was spinning! He was suffocating in a sea of people, everything was either too loud or too flashy or just too much. 

Maybe Viktor did need a break. He quickly banished the thought.

He couldn't really afford to take one. 

Not right now. Not when there were lives at stake back home, the life of his people. If Viktor failed, he would not only let down his parents--he would let down his own people, the ones who would one day either called for his head or cheer his name. 

Too much. It was too _much_.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. His mind took him the same pair of brown eyes and a shy smile that calmed him down. He wanted to see Yuuri again so badly, he had waited so long.

Letters could only hold Viktor at bay for so long. 

In the wake of the hectic few weeks, reading his letters had kept Viktor from nearly having a breakdown. 

Yuuri promised they would see each other by spring. Even his last letter told him that he was going to Helvetia for a week to study with the chief Botanist and Herbologist there. Viktor, like an idiot, had completely forgotten to ask. He blamed it on the legislative bill but he knew it was a poor excuse.   
There had been so much going on that it simply slipped his mind. Viktor was known to forget things sometimes.

Viktor sighed dejectedly. 

He didn't want to be here anymore. 

There was nothing to hold him here. 

He had already met with the Queen and the Prince Consort. 

He socialized with some people whose names he couldn't remember. He even put on the ridiculous moon shaped mask Chris had given him just to humour him.   
Afterall, Chris wanted to take him sightseeing the next day. It would be smart to go back to his room and sleep off whatever the hell he was feeling. He's get up, put a stupidly fake smile on his face and explore the city, acting as a third wheel for Chris and his husband while they shamelessly flirted like a pair of teenage lovers. Viktor almost considered dropping out but he had promised Chris that he would try to enjoy himself. 

"Viktor!" His eyes snapped open as a hand landed on his shoulder. "I told you that the mask looked good on you. Imagine what you might have looked like if you chose that horrid poodle mask?!" 

"Chris," Viktor said without turning around. "This only covers half of my face. I look like an idiot and I happened to like that poodle mask."

"Hmmm. Trust me, Viktor." He patted him on the back looking smugger by the second. Good grief, what did Chris have up his sleeve this time? On second thought, Viktor didn't want to know. "You'll thank me for my divine intervention later, mon ami." 

_Divine Intervention?_

Viktor could only take so much. 

"Do I want to know?" 

"Yes and no."

" _Chris?_ "

Chris didn't answer as they watched the couples dance, swirling and glittering into a blur of colours as their feet moved to the fast-paced tempo of the waltz that was playing. Mila had been part of the dancers dressed impeccably in her uniform, her medals glinted across her chest matching the sword strapped to her hip. Her hair had been slicked back, a few strands falling onto her forehead as she entwined herself around a young girl in a stunning purple gown with sun-kissed skin and vivid purple eyes. He could hear their laughter from where he stood as the girl in the purple dress dipped Mila, she looked up, holding onto the girl as she smiled fondly. 

He'd seen the same girl before at various balls that year but he could never recall her name. At least Mila had too finally found somebody she wanted to dance with. Viktor was glad for her, she had been through too much in her short life, at least he knew that Mila was happy.

Viktor wouldn't mind dancing if he had the right partner. 

This ball, minus the masks and flowers, reminded him a similar night where his world suddenly exploded into colour and music by the mere heated touch of a simple man that was beautiful as he was amazing. He wasn't just beautiful physically, there was a sort of light in him. Something profound and bright that called to Viktor, making his thoughts turn to mush and his heart to feel like it melted. 

Yuuri was beautiful in more ways than one. It's a pity he didn't realize it himself.

Oh, what Viktor would do to have that man in his arms again......

One waltz bled into another and then another but he stayed for Chris's sake. The Spring Ball was a little bit more bearable with Chris here, he could excuse the odd tastes in fashion and music but given that this was Helvetia, Viktor could only wonder. The minutes seemed to crawl rather than drag as they did earlier. Chris was good at distracting Viktor with idle chatter for a little bit until he remembered the source of his discontent and the cycle started all over again. 

"Oh, look! Right on time!" Chris exclaimed as the both of them stood underneath one of the many canopies of flowers, cool champagne in their hands to stave off the heat. It was only a quarter past nine. 

His husband must've finally arrived, Viktor assumed. 

He didn’t really bother to turn around. 

He wasn't that close with Chris's husband but he did respect the man but it didn't really make sense for him to be so late, the two of them were usually joined at the hip almost all the time. 

" _Viktor?_ " 

He froze, his heart suddenly rising in tempo with the music and colour draining from his cheeks, making him look pale as the moon. Viktor turned his head to see a young man next to Chris's husband, dressed in a well-cut black jacket with gold metallic designs embroidered on the front of his suit, snaking its way across his shoulders and curling around the waist, enunciating his slim build. The mask, however, was simple. Gold in colour with cutouts for the eyes. A sun was drawn in the center, each ray carefully painted on with brown and bronze. 

It covered only the upper half of his face but Viktor didn't need a mask to know who it was. It was the eyes that Viktor's gaze had been drawn to. They seemed to shimmer surrounded by gold, so much was hidden in his eyes and yet the soft curl of his lips said it all. 

" _Yuuri_ ," He said as he felt his lips stretch into a smile on their own. He stepped forward, giddiness bubbling in his chest. 

Chris stepped out of his way, pulling his husband into the fray mid-song to give them some room. Viktor barely noticed it was obvious that his mind was elsewhere. He could thank him later but from now Chris felt satisfied to see some colour return to Viktor's once pale blue eyes. Now they glowed a vibrant blue, dancing like smouldering embers. 

"You're here," Viktor breathed, standing so close to Yuuri that he could feel the warmth radiating from him. He wanted to so badly reach out and pull the younger man into his arms. "You're really here."

No wonder Chris had been insistent on him coming to the ball. Sneaky bastard but Viktor meant that with affection. 

Yuuri looked up, a similar smile on his face. Viktor glanced down to follow the curve of his lips, oddly tempted to swoop down and press his lips against Yuuri's. It was tempting, very tempting. He wondered how would they feel against his. Yuuri seemed to have the effect on him.   
Interesting.

What else did Yuuri do to him?

"I promised to see you, didn't I?" He said, simply as he took one step closer to Viktor and he found himself lost in his bashful eyes. "Hello, Viktor."

 

 

When Yuuri had returned earlier that day, he found a box wrapped in gold ribbon laying on the bed of his shared dorm as Chris's husband waiting patiently outside for him to get ready.

Yuuri had agreed when Chris had asked him to accompany him and his husband to the Spring Ball. Chris also insisted that he show Yuuri around the capital since it was his first time in Helvetia. In the end, Yuuri had somehow managed to look presentable enough to attend the ball. He intended to sulk around in the crowd for a couple of hours before leaving back to his room quietly. 

Now as Viktor stood before him, his eyes wide with excitement, Yuuri promptly started internally berating his past self for wanting to miss this event. 

"Hello, Yuuri," Viktor said reaching out and pulling the younger man immediately into his arms. 

Yuuri felt the heat rise to his cheeks, making his neck and ears burn. 

Viktor was.....hugging him. He was hugging him! 

It felt wonderful and warm and so perfect. 

Yuuri had to leave his spects behind, trading them in for a spell that temporarily gave him clear sight. It had left him with a slight burning sensation but Yuuri could see the stairs of others as Viktor held onto Yuuri. Viktor may have worn a mask but his hair had been a dead giveaway and Yuuri didn't realize how well he looked. 

Everybody knew it was Crown Prince Viktor. 

The stares bore into him, half from envy and half from admiration, making him shrink further into Viktors arms. At least it was a nice hug but it did little to quiet the demons in his mind that spoke poison. His blood ran cold as fear took it's root in the pit of his stomach making it churn with uneasiness.   
He should be happy. 

Why wasn't he happy? Viktor was right here.

But most of all, why was he suddenly so scared?

Was it because he knew it was wrong---that he had no right to be near Viktor, much less touch him? Or was it because suddenly everyone had turned to stare at him? 

His life had been so certain until he met Viktor but now everything felt like it had been torn apart and haphazardly put back together. This uncertainty had been nerve-wracking for him, he never dealt well with change but now he feared that nothing would ever be the same. 

Viktor buried his face in his hair, his arms were wrapped tightly around his narrowed shoulders pulling him close to Viktor's taller frame. He felt safe as he inhaled the scent of mint and cold air that lingered, he smelled like winter itself. So Yuuri closed his eyes, ignoring the part of his brain that told him to run away as he wrapped his arms around Viktor's waist, burying his face in Viktors shoulder, memorizing his scent his how warm he felt.

It didn't feel like a normal hug, there was something about that made his heart do flips. This was more intimate, more familiar--a hug between lovers rather than corresponding friends. 

It felt right, that’s the only way he could describe it.

How could someone feel so cold and warm at the same time?

Yuuri was such a weak, weak man when it came to Crown Prince Viktor Nikiforov. 

"I missed you," He said with honesty. 

"As did I." Viktor pulled away but his hands still lingered on Yuuri's shoulders. 

His smile was there but there was a hidden depth to Viktor's eyes that didn't sit well with Yuuri. He could see the fatigue on his face regardless of how happy he looked. It drained into his eyes most of all, churning like the sea with unknown secrets and seeped onto his shoulders, weighing him down with invisible anchors. He could feel the taut muscles through the layers of silken fabric, coiled and stiff. Yuuri could see it, clear as day. He just wanted to reach up and hold Viktors face in his hand so badly, and run his thumb across his skin to soothe away whatever had him so tense and worried. 

"Yuuri?" Viktor asked, tilting his head at the younger man. 

That action may or may not have made Yuuri melt on this inside. 

"Hmm?" Yuuri answered back, eyes still on Viktors face. 

"Dance with me?" 

Viktor reached down. entwining his hand with Yuuri's. His touch was hesitant, brushing over his knuckles with his thumb gently before holding onto his hand. Yuuri felt like the world was spinning but in a good way as he gazed at Viktor's eager expression. His throat refused to let his words come out so he gave a firm nod and Viktor then pulled him onto the floor eagerly, a heart-shaped smile making its way onto his face.

They were so close as the next piece started, both of their chests pressed closely together as Viktor placed his hand against the small of his back. Yuuri stiffened a little bit, it was hard to ignore everyone when he wasn't drunk. Viktor's touch felt heavy through his clothes, a firm reminder that Viktor was the one who asked him to dance---that Viktor wanted to dance with _him_ and nobody else. 

"Relax," Viktor whispered into his ear, his cool breath fanning across the flustered skin of his neck. "I'm right here. You're fine."

Yuuri let Viktor take charge this time, following him across the floor.

“I’m okay,” Yuuri said. 

The whispers around him blended into the melody but Yuuri happily followed him miraculously not stepping onto Viktor's toes. Minako would've been proud of him if she could see him now. The fast-paced waltz had seemed to slow down, a sweet aria taking its place. Many couples had fled, seeking out something to drink. Only a handful remained dancing, Yuuri and Viktor included. 

"I missed you," Viktor said. Both of his hands set on Yuuri's waist as he lifted him into the air, spinning him around before setting him back down gently. Yuuri's hands had been firmly set on his shoulders before Viktor reached for his hand again. 

"I-I did too," Yuuri said once his feet touched the tiled ground.

Viktor smiled once again but he glanced over Yuuri's shoulder once in awhile. Yuuri turned his head slightly, angling it so that he could look for whatever held Viktor's attention away from him. Viktor had this look in his eyes that didn't sit well with him as if he was trying to conceal something. It pricked at him every time Viktor failed to meet his eyes or his smile seemed a little too wide or his grip was a little too firm. 

He was not okay. 

It had been such a long time since he had seen Viktor but he was just as beautiful as he had been when Yuuri had last seen him in the falling snow of Rusberg.   
There was some change, but time changes us all. However, for Viktor it looked like no matter how his smile lit up the room or the expression of happiness on his face there's was just something lurking underneath that threatened to bring him down. 

Viktor was not okay. 

_His_ Viktor was not okay. 

Yuuri was half tempted to leave it alone but he noticed that people who were staring were staring at Viktor as well. He remembered that he received a letter from Viktor, it had been clear he was having a bad day. Words had been crossed out, some blotted out completely. It was like Viktor’s hand had been quivering with a silent fury that he couldn't openly express when he wrote the letter. The letter itself was an almost scathing account of parliament and the press, a supposed scandal had broken out that week involving one of Viktor’s advisors, a man known as Yakov Feltsmen. 

Yuuri had heard that name before and the list of accomplishments that followed it. As far as Yuuri knew, Lord Feltsman was a tough old man with an impressive military history and served as an advisor to the King and King of Keiveren. Even Viktor wrote about how Yakov had been like a second father to him and Yuri so it wouldn't be surprising how furious he might have been about somebody trying to besmirch his mentor's name. 

He could understand, he would have been beyond livid if someone had done the same to Minako. 

What bothered Yuuri was that the letter had sensitive information. If someone was to intercept the letters, then it could spell disaster for the both of them. IT may have been through a very secret and complicated system but that didn’t mean that Viktor’s enemies wouldn’t try to see why their Crown Prince was corresponding with someone like Yuuri. 

Viktor would one day be king, he had eyes on him almost all the time. The press would have a field day considering how Yuuri, a royal himself, received letters containing sensitive information from the Crown Prince himself. 

He understood what it was like growing up in the spotlight, he was the darling child of Oyeshima. The press loved Yuuri when he was younger because he was a cute kid and nobody knew much about him which made the papers print more photos of the elusive young prince. He stayed out of the way merely because he hated being in front of the press when it wasn’t an official event and Mari needed more press coverage than him since she was to inherit the throne. Also, Minako had used it to their advantage when Yuuri grew older and much more handsome, it was a great way to get more coverage for the royal family. 

Viktor didn’t just dislike the press, he abhorred them. He was human too, he most likely hated being like an ant under a magnifying glass. 

There were too many eyes. 

He needed to get Viktor out of here-- away from the brightly lit chandeliers and unknown faces so that they could talk, hopefully in private.As much as he loved dancing with Viktor, there was something seriously wrong and Yuuri didn’t want to ignore the gut feeling. 

“Viktor?”

“Yes, zolste?” Viktor asked. He twirled Yuuri away before bringing him back into his arms. Yuuri bit his lip, hesitating to ask. Viktor noticed but said nothing as he waited patiently for Yuuri to say something. 

Would it be too personal? Where they there at a point where he could ask those things? Was he even allowed to?

 _Screw it_ , Yuuri thought. (His inner Phichit told him to go for it!)

“Are you okay, Viktor?” He asked, his voice just barely above a whisper. 

Those were words that either make or break a person. Yuuri had heard those words too many times in his life, words that were usually used in the place of pity but Yuuri had heard those words enough times to know that he felt a sense of irritation right after. He would never pity Viktor, he didn’t deserve that nor did he need it. He had asked quietly so only Viktor could hear him and nobody else. 

“Okay?” Viktor repeated, his voice was monotone. 

A cold chill went up Yuuri’s spine. 

‘ _Shit. Shit. Shit._ Yuuri’s mind was trying to find a way to take back his words with little success. _I fucked up! I’m going to crawl up under and rock and die! Did I just really ask that?! What the_ \---

“I’m fine.” Viktor finally said. Yuuri turned his head to see his face, the smile was now frozen and his eyes were suddenly so somber, like ice melting in end of winter. 

He didn’t believe him. 

Yuuri lifted his head, pressing his forehead against Viktors. The masks were in the way but Yuuri didn’t care. “No, you’re not.” 

Viktor only stared back at him, suddenly so vulnerable. He felt his hand tighten on his and Viktor closed his eyes as they swayed gently to the music around them. It felt too loud now, like the buzzing of a bee that flew too close to your ear. It was after a full minute when Viktor opened his eyes and Yuuri could see the naked emotion that slipped through the carefully constructed mask that was Crown Prince Viktor Nikiforov. Yuuri never wanted to see that again, he wanted to see just Viktor---his Viktor. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor rubbed circles on his knuckles, a way to assure Yuuri but it felt more like he was trying to assure himself. “I’m fine.” 

“Then why are you looking at me like that?” Yuuri narrowed his eyes. 

“Like what?” He asked, innocently. 

“Like _that_.” Viktor pressed his lips into a firm line, feigned confusion written on his face. Yuuri felt like he had crossed a line but Viktor didn’t call him out yet so he pressed on, unsure where this newfound bravery came from. “Your eyes, Viktor. They’re sad, almost melancholic.” 

Viktor sighed, closing his eyes once more. If it wasn’t for Yuuri, they would have stopped in the middle of the floor. Yuuri moved his hand down, encircling his waist. 

“Follow me.” Viktor nodded numbly, tired of pretending it was all okay. He removed his hand away from the small of Yuuri’s back and rested it on his shoulder, allowing the younger man to take the lead. He laid his head on his shoulder as if he was trying to hide, he didn’t open his eyes, relying on Yuuri to guide him. 

Yuuri danced them to the edge of the floor, pulling Viktor through the crowd. Viktor’s hands lingered on his shoulders before he followed Yuuri, his eyes dazed. They passed Chris and his husband who gave them confused looks but kindly moved out of the way. 

He was thankful that they didn’t ask anything. 

The summer air his face making it easier for Yuuri to breath, there was the faint smell of jasmines that lingered in the air. He took a deep breath in and then exhaled before he brought Viktor further and further away from the music and stifling bodies of the grand ballroom and into the quiet, vast gardens were the only ones to judge the both of them were the roses and the bronze statues that littered that sat atop the pure white fountains smiling down on the both of them with their frozen expressions. 

Viktor was quiet but his grip remained strong. 

Yuuri finally stopped at the edge of a large fountain that was silent, no water erupted from its spout and lily pads floated along it stilled surface. It looked like it hadn’t worked for years considering the algae that grew at the bottom, giving the water an ink-like appearance. He could see Viktor and him in the stars and the bright full moon that reflected off the glassy surface, only the faintest of ripple disturbing their images caused by the little fish that called it home.  
He brushed some of the chipped paint off the edge before he sat down, patting the spot next to him. Viktor had yet to let go of his hand as he sat down next to him, their backs to the worn bronze statue as he took his mask off with a huff revealing the other half of his face. 

Yuuri did the same, the fell of fresh air against his face felt nice. A few strands of his hair had been plastered to his forehead due to the sweat. 

“Thank you, Yuuri,” Viktor said, taking his mask off as well.

Now that Yuuri got out here, he wasn’t sure what to do. 

Do they talk? Do they just silently enjoy the night air? OR did he just pretend that Viktor was okay? 

He opened his mouth but closed it quickly. 

How did Yuuri approach the topic? He couldn’t just ask candidly, he had no right to assume. 

Viktor had an air of confidence that was solid, whatever had Viktor so rattled must have been extreme or disturbing. Yuuri thought he’d just make it worse by asking but now that he had dragged Viktor all the way out here he wasn’t sure just how to ask him. 

“I promised you a dance,” Viktor said, running his hands through his hair in what he assumed to be frustration. “And now I’ve ruined it. I’m so sorry, Yuuri.”   
What? 

Yuuri blinked and then felt the heat rush to his cheeks much too quickly. 

“No! Viktor, it’s not you’re fault!” He looked at their still intertwined hands. “I-it’s just I thought that you weren’t okay. I’m sorry if I assumed but something just didn’t feel right and oh my god! I’m so sorry if I---”

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, his smile was softer but there was a wistful look in his eyes now. “Thank you for getting me out of there.” 

Yuuri gulped, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. His face was burning and not even the pleasant breeze could cool it down. He bit his lip, the wild lilies brushing up against his back trying to get his attention as Viktor looked momentarily stunned by the flowers that aimed to pull Yuuri into the pond. They gathered behind Yuuri, feeling his distress. One could suppose that this was their way of claiming the young earth elemental down. 

“Are you okay, Viktor?” Yuuri asked once again, feeling stupid for repeating the question. 

Viktor’s response was a deep sigh that was harrowing as well as depressive. He turned his hand, an almost sardonic smile plastered on his face that clearly expressed ‘Well, what can I say?’ in just one simple look. It probably wasn’t meant to be cynical but Viktor looked like he had just stopped caring, there was an empty look in his eyes, the vibrant dancing blue had been washed out leaving behind ice.

He spoke about Parliament and the legislature he wanted to pass to help his people and his legacy as well as him one-day being king. His fears, his sorrows, his regrets. The words tumbled out of his mouth in hushed tones meant only for Yuuri’s ear as Viktor turned his body facing Yuuri, meeting him halfway as he lazily drew circles on his wrist. Yuuri leaned his head forward, listening intently to every word that came from Viktor’s mouth. The water lilies had erupted over the edge of the fountain, twisting their pale roots around their hands as if they voiced their approval. A blue water lily bloomed between them, right atop their hands that rested in Yuuri’s lap but it couldn’t draw Yuuri’s attention away from Viktor who hung his head in dismay. 

“I feel like I’m letting everyone down; my parents, Yura, Yakov, Lillia.” He looked up at Yuuri. “ _You_.” 

Yuuri sighed deeply. "You know, I'm pretty uninteresting and I'm surprisingly average compared to everyone else but when it comes to you," Yuuri started as he brushed his hands against the blue lily, straightening out its petals, "You're wrong about yourself."

He felt like an idiot.

Who was he to give Viktor advice?

Viktor only wanted him to listen, right? 

Right?!

His bravery from earlier had faded, he let the anxiety and doubt take over once again as he stared into the still water of the fountain. Viktor waited, his arms folded as he waited for Yuuri to get the words off his chest. Yuuri could feel his throat tightened and his handshake a little bit but he looked up into Viktor's eyes unflinchingly as he continued on.

"Viktor, you have such a capability for good," He said, his voice wavering in the slightest. "My mother used to say that a good ruler was as good as his people. Do you want to know why that is?” Viktor nodded. "Because a ruler is nothing without his people, Viktor. It’s the people who will put you on the throne, it’s the people who will call out for you. And believe me when I say that I honestly do think that you'll be a great King one day and I’m sure everyone that supports you thinks that too. You'll do what's right because that's the type of man you are. Those nobles don't know what they're talking about nor do they care but _you_ \---” Yuuri pointed to his chest, right where his heart resided in his chest “---You do. That's what sets you apart from them. You'll do great and amazing things one day, Viktor. I know it."

The splashing of water and the faint sound of crickets was drowned out by the voluminous beat of Yuuri's heart that threatened to burst right out of his chest. It didn't help matter that Viktor had stayed silent and still throughout his little speech, only adding to his anxiety.

His lips were parted and a light blush settled over his perfect features. Yuuri wasn’t sure how to gauge his reaction so he decided that now was the best time to say goodbye to Viktor (hopefully forever) and go hide in the mountains till he was an old grey hermit. 

"Right then!" He said, getting up so that he could make a hasty retreat. 

He should have just kept his stupid mouth shut. There Yuuri went again, presuming too much about things he didn't really know. Just because Viktor and he had a correspondence didn't mean that Yuuri was allowed to say whatever the hell he wanted. What was he thinking?! 

"I'll just go back inside--"

"No!" Viktor reached out, grasping Yuuri's hand. He stood up as well, standing toe to toe with Yuuri. The water lilies extended their roots as far as they could to stay attached to Yuuri. 

He turned, coaxing them back to the lily pads. The water lily that bloomed over their hands remained, nearly squished between their chests that were almost touching as they looked into each other's eyes. They were really close, so close that Yuuri could see the flecks of silver that were sprinkled across Viktor's irises. He could even smell his cologne, something sweet that tickled his nose. 

"I mean, it's just that nobody's really told me.....that. Any of that. Ever. It’s always ‘do what’s right because you’re the Crown Prince’ and ‘That’s what everyone expects of you’ or ‘You aren’t supposed to worry about that.’

Yuuri nearly snorted. Oh, how well he understood that. 

“But…Yuuri…. Thank you.” Yuuri smiled humbly. Viktor leaned close to him as he spoke each word with heavy implication. Just how much did Viktor trust Yuuri? And Why? “Can I tell you one more thing? I've always been terrified of the fact that I'd be no better than my uncle, that I would fail my parents and everything they fought for would be nothing. I want to be a good king, Yuuri, and if that's what you see me as one day then I will dedicate myself to do just that.”

Yuuri felt his mind go blank as Viktor looked at him with determined eyes that burned like embers in a furnace.

This was Viktor in his element, raw and pure. There was so much underneath the shiny pristine surface that others had casted upon him, something Yuuri could finally see but not all of it. Just a glimpse of it was enough. Crown Prince Viktor was so much different than just Viktor and Yuuri felt his heart painfully squeeze as he saw the passion and fire that brimmed underneath the surface, as well as the pain and frustration that Viktor had so carefully hidden. It almost broke his heart.

This is what _his_ Viktor looked like. 

How could this man carry so much on his shoulders and not break?

It seemed Yuuri still had so much to learn. Yuuri was in so much trouble as he felt his heart lurch into his throat at the impact of Viktor's words.

"V-Viktor," He stuttered out, his face blooming pink. He needed to stop getting so flustered, maybe it was the way Yuuri always was or Viktor just had that type of effect on him. Probably the latter. "You don't have to be anything for me. I would never ask such a thing from you, I just want you to be who you are!"  
The same expression from earlier washed over Victor's face, he tilted his head as the colour returned to his eyes slowly. 

"Yuuri Katsuki," Viktor said, drawing out his name in a soft tone. He lifted both of Yuuri's hand to his lips, grazing a featherlike kiss over his knuckles. His expression was priceless, another thing for Yuuri to lock away in the deep corners of his mind. "You will never cease to amaze me, zolste.”

Yuuri felt Viktor tilt his face up, forcing him to look away from the water and up at him. “You have so much more potential and power than you think. I hope that one day you see yourself the way I have."

"And how's that?"

"Kind," He said, still smiling. It was goofy but Yuuri found it cute. He looked more relaxed now. "Strong yet soft at the same time, beautiful yet humble, resourceful and smart and a surprisingly good dancer."

"Oh, Viktor......” He averted his eyes. “You don't really mean that."

"What? Of course, I do!” Viktor said pulling away from Yuuri but kept their hands intertwined “I mean every word, Yuuri. I can go on and on and on about you," Yuuri's face was that familiar shade of pink that Viktor loved. "But enough of that. I did promise you a dance. So, how about it? I'll dance with you---properly this time."

"No alcohol though."

"Pity." Viktor pouted. He picked the water lily, placing it behind Yuuri's ear. "There we go."

Yuuri looked down at their hands and then back to Viktor who looked utterly at peace surrounded by the flowers. He engraved the image into his head as he nodded. This would be something that he would look back on with utter fondness in years to come. This was the start of something new that transcended whatever boundaries the both of them had set up. 

"Shall we?"

"We shall."

Viktor to pulled him back inside, away from the flowers and into the crowds who stared at the both of them entered the ballroom. Neither of them had bothered to put on their masks, too lost in each other to really care. Chris was near the Queen, a smug look on his face as he signalled the musicians.

A slow waltz started as they took their places in the centre of the ballroom as the music started, with Viktor's hand securely on his waist Yuuri stared into his eyes as they spun around the room. This time they just danced, both of them ignoring the people around then as Yuuri looked at Viktor with a tender look, Viktor giggling each time they twirled around. The world just seemed to hush, falling away. 

Everything felt almost magical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who just came back from two week trip from New York City?!  
> Took way too many pictures, bought way a lot of souvenirs, and it was all so worth it. Got to see the Christmas decorations too!
> 
> Anywho, you might be asking 'Hey, where's the angst?' Worry not my friend, I shall deliver. Now that I'm on break I'm only getting started!
> 
> Have any questions? Good. You can gladly ask me in the comments below or go to my Tumblr, I'm only one click away: [My Tumblr](https://lady-of-inklings.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I do hope you guys enjoyed my very late update. Don't hesitate to comment below or leave a kudos, I wanna know how i'm doing so far.
> 
> Your comments and kudos are the fuel that keeps me going, so thank you to all those that left a comment!
> 
> Happy Holidays!


	8. Gladiolus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladiolus: Strength
> 
> Suggested Songs:  
> 'This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race' - Fall Out Boy  
> 'History Has Its Eyes On You' - Cast of Hamilton   
> 'Seven Nation Army' - The White Stripes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really short and I'm sorry. But hey, the good news is that the holidays gave me time to write a few chapters ahead!

Viktor starred down at the floor of Parliment with cold, icy blue eyes and an equally cold expression to match. He could feel the eyes on him causing ice to form on the tips of his fingers Thankfully they were hidden by the black gloves he had chosen to wear for the occasion but Viktor could still feel the thin slip of ice settle through his skin, making its way towards his heart. 

He forwent the usual pastel blues and purples and bright pinks; instead choosing to settle for a grey embroidered silk vest and a black dress shirt dress with matching grey trousers, a dark grey frock coat elegantly draped on his shoulders like a shadow trailing behind him. The only splash of colour that decorated his tall frame was the bloody red cravat that was tucked against his throat, making it look like a bleeding open wound as if somebody had taken a knife and slit his throat ear from ear. Given where he was at the moment, it wouldn't be surprising if some of the members of Parliment were thinking that.

His mother insisted that he wore his crown today; an open circlet of hammered out gold no wider than the width of his pinky finger which had small rubies inlaid onto its surface. The crown had been in his mothers family for almost eight centuries, the runes present on its surface predated his father's dynasty and kingdom. It was ancient and rumoured to be imbued with magic, he hoped that whatever antique secret that laid in its metal would lend him some luck. 

Today, he didn't want to look like a prince---he wanted to look like a future _King_. 

Viktor had never felt the burden of a crown as he did so today. A small piece of metal with a handful of rubies suddenly felt a ton of bricks dumped onto his head. The eyes all around him only added to its weight but it was worth it. 

He felt like he had luck on his side but as for bravery.........Viktor raised his hand to his heart feeling the lavender rose that Yuuri gave him pressed safely against his chest, right above where his heart was. It was nestled in the inner pockets of his vests, protected from the dry air of the chamber. The rose would never die, Yuuri had said so himself but it was something precious to him that he carried around at all times. 

In a way, he could keep Yuuri close to his heart. It gave him strength and patience in the most trying of times. 

A tiny sliver of fear and doubt wormed its way into his mind as the morning progressed, he could hardly eat a bite during his breakfast without feeling like throwing up. He had grappled with the monster of doubt and anxiety, _desperate_ to banish it into the depths of his mind before it could hinder him any further. Viktor knew of Yuuri and his anxiety, how it constantly got in his way but somehow-- _someway_ \-- he manages to overcome it and if he couldn't then Yuuri would find a way to cope with it. 

That's all Viktor could do now. 

He could cope with the sudden, unexpected fear that spoke poison in the back of his mind---he just needed to push it back, he'd deal with it later but right now his royal duties came first as well as his duty to his people. The written notes in his hand felt heavy like paper had turned into steel. The words he had painstakingly written into the early hours of the morning could either break or make history. 

Viktor was hoping for the latter. 

A strong hand clasped his shoulder, pulling him back down to earth. He didn't flinch, instead, he took a deep breath in, counted to ten like Yuuri told him as he held it, and let out a deep breath releasing his frustration and insecurities. The strong scent of the rose washed over him, calming his heart down long enough for him to gather his thoughts and commit. Yuuri, the man who set his heart on fire; the soft brown of his eyes and the warmth of his touch, Viktor closed his eyes briefly focusing on that, drawing power from the words Yuuri uttered to him in the garden, he believed in him and so did a number of other people. 

He had to pull himself together. He needed to do this! 

"Vitya," Yakov said, his eyes a reflection of his own. He didn't have to say anything else, Viktor knew. 

"It's time."

He stood up, straightening his clothes before thanking Yakov and making his way to the floor. Today, he wouldn't just be breaking one but several protocols. His father would most likely lecture him when the session was over but Viktor's goal was more important. 

The flash of the cameras illuminated his way, making his silver hair look like a halo and making the ice in his eyes glitter menacingly. He hoped that the by this time tomorrow, he would be able to accomplish by getting aid to his people. 

Viktor understood how many rules he was breaking to make this happen. He had only three days to announce the bill and with Yakov's help, had pulled a few strings allowing Parliment to vote on this bill as soon as he could. There was also the little and slightly illegal thing of inviting reporters from every major newspaper in the country to attend this certain debate so that he could repair some of the damage that had been caused by the backlash. 

His parents stared down from the royal balcony, his father especially betrayed no emotion but Viktor could feel the weight of his presence. His mother nodded towards her son, just a slight tilt of her head that if Viktor blinked, he would've missed it. 

They approved, that was enough. 

He took the floor with all eyes on him and cleared his throat. 

"Good Morning," Viktor said, satisfied by the pin drop silence. He had their attention now. Good. "Let's get started."

 

 

Breakfast at Celestino's manor was quiet today. Much too quiet for Celestonio's liking, he was expecting Phichit to come in squealing about something or for J.J. to piss somebody off but instead he was met with silence from his oddly quiet charges. Seung-Il was silent but then again Seung-Il was always silent but today he barely moved his face. Yuuri was absent most likey fawning over another letter from that royal pain in the neck, Nikiforov. Even Leo and Guang-Hong weren't whispering to each other like they usually do whenever they were near each other. 

Celestino had a strong suspicion that it had something to do with his newest charge. 

The others weren't sure how to approach the boy who sat at the far end of the table, quietly eating. 

Otabek Altin was a young man whose only expression ranges from mildly intrigued to uninterested as hell but that was due to his naturally stoic nature. He wasn't shy, he could look someone in the eye and speak freely. 

The boy had seen many hardships from the haunted look that lingered in his dark eyes, Celestino knew that look well. It was time to change that. He didn't usually like to meddle but the silence was driving him insane (and it was slightly freaking him out.) He cleared his throat, desperate to get rid of miasma that lingered in the air like an angry storm cloud.

"Phichit," Celestino said. The younger man looked up from his eggs bored. "I have a few errands to run this morning, do you mind showing Otabek around while I'm gone?"

His grey eyes lit up with excitement almost immediately.

Phichit was easily the most sociable person he had ever met, if somebody could break the ice and bring Otabek out of his bubble then Phichit was the best person for the job. He had easily befriended Yuuri during the first week he was here and he was a stubborn introvert. Right now, Celestion was more worried about the young Prince who had been unceremoniously shipped off to a strange and foreign land in order to keep him from the clutches of the political turmoil that raged in his home country. His mother, who had visited Calabria several times in her youth and was a personal friend of Celestino, decided that her oldest would be safer here. 

"Sure," The younger man said. He turned to Otabek, a cheerful smile on his face. "Of course, if that's okay with you?"

Otabek nodded stiffly. "That's fine." 

It didn't take long for Phichit to start chattering about the places in Roma that they should visit and if Otabek was uncomfortable by the attention, he didn't show it. He took tentative bites of his food as he listened to Phichit prattle on and soon the other boys joined in suggesting places and things he should try. Otabek offered little input choosing to listen to all of them while maintaining a stoic expression that put Seung-Il to shame.

The young prince still wasn't ready to open up, the slight hunch of his shoulder and the lack fo response was paramount that that. 

For Otabek, the last words his parents had told him before he boarded the airship was that he would need to strong if he wanted to survive and to never forget his roots. He had already survived the anxiously long journey to Calabria, only a fraction of his possessions in a single trunk that had been hastily packed. The rest of his siblings has also been shipped off to several different regions for their safety and Otabek didn't know if they made it to their destinations or not, the only ones he had heard from were his younger sister when she arrived in Siam and his brother in Spagna who was kind enough to send him a telegraph. His parents had stayed behind, choosing to remedy the situation to the best of their ability. As far as he knew, they were still alive. His mother promised to send him a letter in a week's notice, that was almost two weeks ago. 

(He was still waiting for the letter.) 

Several newspapers had reported about the situation in his country, it wasn't as tumultuous as it was two weeks ago but it wasn't safe enough for him to return home just yet. Otabek Altin would most likely never return to his country in the foreseeable future. He hadn't really thought about anything else besides one day ruling his country and suddenly, without a single warning, his future had been ripped away from him due to a political war that his family was paying the price for. 

Celestino was sympathetic enough to allow Otabek sometime before he decided what he wanted to do with his studies. He still wasn't sure what he wanted to pursue. Being a Doctor had always seemed appealing but he didn't know just yet, it was too soon to decide. 

He needed to make a choice. 

His mother was an intelligent woman, she thought three steps ahead while others were stuck at two. She had given him a chance at a new future without telling him, his supposed exile was a blessing in disguise with a hint irony. He just had to reach out and take it. 

Otabek's only option now was to be stronger, but that didn't mean that he had to close himself off to do that. 

At least he wasn't alone. 

 

 

 

There were times where Yuri Plisetsky would watch as Viktor turned from an airhead to a future king and stand in complete awe when he spoke. The metamorphosis was always gradual and left him with a begrudging respect for his cousin that he wouldn't dare express. 

Viktor, who stood proudly on the floor with his notes tucked safely away in his pocket, spoke passionately and meticulously, describing the outline of his bill that would provide aid to the northern territories which were suffering from the most prolonged and bitterest winter they had ever experienced. 

Yuri knew of the situation to the north. The newspapers had said enough, their criticism had been a little more than scathing even though Yuri knew they were right. 

Viktor had been a near insane and muttering mess for the past three days, pacing the floor of his study. Several people had come in and out of his study, some of them he recognized and others he didn't. Yuri just sat in his corner with his assigned books pretending to read them before stealthy eavesdropping on their conversations which were muffled behind closed doors.

As far as Yuri knew the snow had melted thanks due to the heat of spring but instead of growth, there was nothing. Most of the food and supplies had been waning and were almost gone by the time the snow had melted and much of the equipment had been damaged by the heavy blizzards. It was all over the news and the Crown was facing some backlash for not hurrying up in relief efforts from the press. 

_'If only it was that easy,_ ' Yuri thought as leaned against the railing. ' _Try getting anything useful past these assholes_.' 

Another flash went off and Yuri pulled away from the railing before glaring down at the area of the chamber that had been reserved for the reporters. The Press was pesky but at a time like this, they were useful for once. 

The bill suggested that the Military to assist in rebuilding and a small fraction of the royal treasury would go into help with providing aid, the goal was to help the northerners to get back on their feet so that they could harvest enough food for the next winter. Viktor had finally finished allowing the rest of Parliment to debate openly, those who rejected the bill stating it as 'too expensive' made themselves present. 

It was the same group of scumbags that always had it out for Victor. Since they couldn't show their frustration on the King, Viktor made an easy target since he was just a prince. 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. They underestimated Viktor too much. 

Those who supported Viktor were adamant about the lack of time and that the northern territories would not last very long without help from the Crown and Military. Yuri agreed that it was a smart move to have the press present, most of the nobles weren't brave enough to speak up when they were under heavy scrutinization by the Press who were having a field day with their newfound access. God only knew what they were going to plaster over their front pages tomorrow but he knew that it was most likely going to be in Viktor's favour. The bill was finally put to a vote by the end of the session, each Parliment member and elected official placing their vote. 

Fifty Lords and fifty elected officials, all of them making up a hundred seats in Parliment. Yuri had sat in his seat eagerly paying attention, most other times he'd be bored out of his mind, thinking more about fencing or lessons rather than boring politicians and their entitled opinions but today he was actually interested.

He couldn't help but notice that Viktor looked smug as the votes counted past sixty-two in favour of his bill and Yuri couldn't help but smirk a little too. It had taken time but watching those assholes who constantly questioned Viktor's claim to be king to be knocked down a peg was extremely _fucking_ satisfying. 

By this time tomorrow, The King and Queen would've signed off on the Bill allowing Military aid and relief funds from the Crown to be sent to the northern regions. 

Viktor did it. 

He actually fucking did it and Yuri was beyond impressed, going straight to the people for support via the press and several key elected figures instead of dealing with a losing battle with Parliment. It was a clever decision that he approved of. Even he couldn't think of anything that cunning but who cared about methods as long as they worked. 

The session was called to a close by the time the evening bell rang out, the members of the press packed up their equipment eager to run back to their bosses about a new scoop, and Viktor was shaking hands with several men in suits who were congratulating him on his victory. 

He had glanced up at the balcony, surrounded by a swarm of people trying to grab his attention. His hair was like a drop of white paint against a canvas of inky black. His eyes landed on Yuri who stood next to his aunt who was politely clapping with a slight ghost of a smile on her face, his uncle was forever stoic only allowing himself to nod in his sons general direction but no doubt he was damn proud of what Viktor just did (even though he did break protocol by inviting the press into the chambers of Parliment and didn't give a week's advance notice of his bill or the fact that he had drafted and wrote out a bill!) His gaze slid past both of his parents to land on Yuri who had his arms crossed as he looked at Viktor over his shoulder. He was smiling like a little kid who had gotten a good grade on his midterm report, just a tiny bit of accomplishment in that self-satisfied looking face of his. 

Yuri suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. 

Viktor most likely didn't see it yet but he had made even more enemies, the group that had voted 'no' was huddled in their circles clearly miffed at the idea of Viktor and Yakov actually doing their duty. Their dirty looks weren't missed by Yuri who glared down at them for being the snivelling cowards they were. They could grumble all they wanted to but Viktor had the upper hand this time and they could bitch all they wanted. 

One of them turned to look at Yuri, his glassy dark eyes narrowed and Yuri tried his best to suppress the chills that ran down his spine. Yuri couldn't recall his name but he did remember that it started with an 'L.' His aunt had always been very wary of him, making sure that he didn't 'sink his claws into Yura.' He hadn't meant to eavesdrop on his aunt and uncle, it had been when he was sneaking back in after a night exploring the town where he heard them discussing various politicians. 

He was younger, he didn't understand what they were saying then but as that man looked up at him with eyes full of something he couldn't understand, Yuri suddenly felt like he understood. 

He broke eye contact, turning to Mila who was behind him. She didn't have to say anything but it only took a moment for her to soften her eye in acknowledgement. Mila knew better than to pity him, but that didn't mean she couldn't offer him her sympathies. Her gaze hardened back to its original state, rock solid and borderline threatening. Mila had earned her spot at the Captain of the Palace Guards for a reason, it wasn't surprising that she was assigned to personally overlook Yuri's and Viktor's security. With recent events, Yuri had a grave feeling that they were going to make her job arduous. 

' _Viktor needs to be more careful,_ ' he decided as he pushed away from the railing, taking his leave with Mila close behind him. ' _He just made more enemies._ '

He didn't stick around to congratulate Viktor, there were others to do that for him. 

' _I hope it was worth it. For his sake and that pig he's been writing to._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'angst' is coming. I promise, I just have a few plot-relevant chapters I need to post before we get into it! Don't worry, I'll get there but I just want to say thank you for those who read, kudos, commented, and supported this fic! I mean a lot to me and helps me to write on when I feel down on inspiration! 
> 
> If you wanna ask me about this fic or just wanna talk, don't hesitate to visit me. Here's my Tumblr: [Link text](https://lady-of-inklings.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Tell me how I'm doing! Don't hesitate to leave a comment or kudos! 
> 
> I'll see you guys in 2018!


	9. Gardenia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gardenia: Secret Love
> 
> Suggested Songs:  
> 'Can't Sleep Love' - Pentatonix  
> 'Earth' - Sleeping at Last  
> 'Bones' - MS MR  
> 'Horns' - Bryce Fox

Dear Viktor,

Congratulations!  
Phichit told me the good news this morning by practically throwing the morning paper in my face after breakfast. What you did was incredible and brave, I wish I could’ve been there to see you, I’m sure you wouldn’t need me there but you must have been amazing.  
The photo in the paper doesn't do you any justice. They make you look too intimidating, like storm clouds gathering in the distance. I’m assuming that was your plan but you look surprisingly good in dark clothing.  
It just doesn’t seem like you but maybe I’m just a little more biased when it comes to you.  
Of course, we haven’t known each other for that long but for some odd reason, deep down in my soul, I feel like I’ve known you for all of my life. It’s strange, almost like I’ve been unknowingly counting down the years.  
It’s hard to put into words, I don’t know how else to say it.  
I can’t believe I’m writing this, you must think of me as strange. I hope you know that I don’t usually say anything like this when we’re face to face, I’ve been told I get too embarrassed easily and I guess it’s true. Phichit enjoys teasing me but I know it isn’t malicious, he just wants the best for me and I guess he must like you enough to give you his ‘mandatory seal of approval.’  
Before I go I just want to say that I meant what I said in the gardens that night. Viktor, I know deep down in my heart that you will be a wonderful king one day and I can only hope that I’ll still be here to see that.  
I’m proud of you, Viktor.  
I’m really sorry that this letter is so brief, I promise to write as soon as I can.

Love,  
Yuuri Katsuki.

 

He held the cream coloured paper in his hands as something bubbles up from his soul, threatening to spill into his lungs and throat. His mind exploded into a frenzy of thoughts that circled the wonderful being known as Katsuki Yuuri.

Viktor crushed the letter close to his chest smiling giddily like a child. Only one person could turn the great Crown Prince Viktor Nikiforov into a messy puddle of good with his words.

Others might consider that dangerous to have so much sway over him but Viktor would let others be offended on his part, the only thing that mattered at the moment was the man who didn’t know that he held Viktor’s heart in his hand.

The thought of giving something so precious away without hesitation temporarily frightened him. What he was feeling was intense, like a flash of blinding light or the sudden chill of winter wind but unlike those things that were temporary, his feelings towards Yuuri Katsuki refused to fade. Even Yuri scoffed when he learned of the letters Viktor and him exchanged. He told Viktor that he had his head up in the clouds. Yuri (in his usual brash and uncouth fashion) thought that was his cousin just chasing tail, nothing more than a sudden infatuation that had very stubborn roots in his chest.

It worried him that if Yuri and Yakov had figured out Viktor’s secret not-so-secret correspondence with Yuuri then it would only be time before his parents found out. He scowls at that, a sting of irritation piercing his pleasant thoughts. His mother and father have always been supportive of Viktor but this, no doubt, would be something where they would put their foot down. No matter how much Viktor felt for Yuuri it didn’t change the thing that he was still a commoner fraternizing with the Crown Prince. If his parents wanted, Viktor would never be able to see Yuuri again.

He bit his lip at that thought. They barely had much time to spend together and the time they did was so very short, it was precious and Viktor treasured it. Letters could only satisfy him for so long. If his parents took Yuuri away from him, it would be like tearing a chunk of his heart in half.

And it would all because of that damn law!

The Nobility Law had been in effect for six centuries, drawn up by his ancestors to prevent any Highborns from marrying anyone below their station regardless of soulmarks. Good thing that Viktor didn’t care about the law but a good majority of Parliament did, it was just the way that things were in this country as well as the neighbouring countries.

His country wasn’t the only one that had the same law in place, others had it under another name but the details were relatively the same. As far as he knew Helvetia was the only country that had decided to abolish it’s Nobility Law, Chris and The Queen had been a large factor in the removal of the law. A great many of the Eastern Kingdoms had been lax with their laws on inter-class marriages. It was even rumoured that the Queen of Oyeshima, the country that had given him Yuuri, was of low birth. How true that rumour was, he didn’t know but if the Eastern nations didn’t see a problem in seeing two people together regardless of race or class then why should the Western countries. He and Yuuri could be easily married if the law didn’t exist and it wasn’t like----Viktor froze mid-thought, red creeping into his cheeks.

Did he really think that?

“ _Marriage_?”

Was he really thinking of getting married to Yuuri?

Not that it was a bad idea or anything…….

The more he tossed the idea around in his head, the more he found the idea pleasant. Married to Yuuri Katsuki, _now _that was something that made him feel giddy and light on the inside. His heart which skipped a beat at the thought of a union seemed to agree with the idea. He could close his eyes right now and imagine the both of them at the altar, Viktor in his wedding tunic and Yuuri in a kimono (a gorgeous red and white one like Viktor had seen in books) as the entire kingdom watched the both of them swear their lives to each other.__

__(Yakov, naturally, would have his head for rushing into marriage!)_ _

__He buried his face in the letter and sunk further down into his seat, he could smell the faint scent of mint and daffodils as he tried not to think about it too much._ _

__Viktor only knew enough of Yuuri as much as the younger man had provided in his letters. Rationally that wasn’t enough time to get married but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t enough to love somebody._ _

__It seemed like a sudden, fleeting thought but it made Viktor’s heart speed up in realization. It suddenly made so much more sense to him._ _

__Ah, there it was. That slight tinge of fear and the excitement that sparked his soul._ _

__Love? Did he love Yuuri Katsuki?_ _

__The answer as he came to learn was yes._ _

__He did._ _

__He loved Katsuki Yuuri---Or at least, he was beginning to._ _

__There was definitely something that made him want to leave the palace and jump on a train to see his Yuuri. Now that wasn’t something you would do for a simple crush but Viktor knew that he would. He did seek out Yuuri after last years ball was over, after all (and that turned out to be one of the best decisions he had made in his short life.) As much as he was tempted to jump on a train to Calabria, his parents wouldn’t hesitate to send Mila and Georgi to drag him out before he got to the border._ _

__(He could always do that for Yuuri’s birthday though.)_ _

__Makkachin yipped from her spot underneath his neck, nuzzling his leg with her nose no doubt sensing the flood of emotions that emitted from Viktor like a beacon._ _

__He reached down and scratched her behind her each._ _

__“Makka,” Viktor said, peeking over the top of the letter and staring that purple rose that laid on top of his desk, the soft petals extending towards him like a hand. A soft smile graced his face as he sighed. He now understood when people often said that they felt lovesick. “I think you’d love to meet Yuuri.”_ _

__

__

__

__It was Mid-Summer when he found a letter from Mari sitting on his desk. The Kastuki's royal family's seals had been stamped onto the paper with gold wax that screamed of its importance and authority simultaneously._ _

__

___Dear Yuuri,_  
Well, I have good news and bad news so for your sake I’ll just start with the bad news first to spare you the wait.  
I’ll get straight to the point, I met my soulmate.  
It didn’t go very well and to be honest, I’m not very surprised. He wasn’t so happy about me being royal and I can understand why. Not everyone’s story can work out well as our parents but the gist of it was that he didn’t want to marry into royal life and guess what, he was already in love with someone else.  
The truth is I am disappointed. It hurts and I think I know why but I understand that’s just the way that life works, Yuuri. The gods tie the red string of fate around our pinkies and expect us to untangle the mess but that doesn’t mean that the person at the other end wants to untangle it, sometimes that person wants to sever the string.  
I must be getting old, since when do I ever sound that poetic? I must be spending too much time with Minako-sensei.  
Speaking of Minako-sensei…….she misses you by the way, she won’t say it but Mom and she keep cooing over pictures of you. Dad too, I find him wandering into the gardens a lot with Vicchan. It’s unusual to see her so quiet.  
Don’t keep us waiting too long Yuuri. I miss you too, little brother.  
As for the good news, (well….. good news depending on how you interpret it) is that Mom and Minako-sensei are going to find the witch, it was difficult but Dad was able to pull through with a pretty powerful locator spell. She’s somewhere on one of the northern islands but fear not my dear little brother, we’ll get her soon. Just keep an eye out for a letter from the both of them.  
I can only pray that it goes well.  
It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you, try writing back more often. It gets lonely in this palace without you.  
Vichan says hi, 

__Yours truly,  
Mari._ _

__

__Yuuri felt tears well up in his eyes, spilling onto his cheeks. The salty taste reminding of the sea that his home overlooked. A longing for home swirled in his chest, he wanted to go home so badly._ _

__Suddenly it was too much._ _

__He didn't know why but his throat tightened and a sob erupted from his throat as he curled into himself, clutching the piece of parchment close to his heart as if it would magically transport him back home. It washed over him in harsh waves, each one burning his lungs and eyes with an intense and unyielding sadness. The darkest parts of his mind didn’t hesitate to speak to him. He knew he was a terrible son and brother and prince. He hadn’t come home in more than fours years. Mari wasn’t wrong when she mentioned that he hadn’t written in so long._ _

__Everything felt like too much, the longing for home blinded him._ _

__The worst of it was that he felt like he was letting everyone down._ _

__He missed dancing with Minako-sensei in the cool evening. He missed spending time with his father in his library during the hot summers. He missed learning about the plants from his mother when the trees bloomed pink and white. He missed sparring with Mari in the early mornings of fall. He missed playing with his Vicchan when Yuuri was supposed to be studying. He missed Yuuko and her growing family. He even missed Minami and his bubbly personality._ _

__But most of all, he missed Oyeshima---his _home_._ _

__Yuuri felt everything was all wrong, he was here for only one thing. He had tried to finish his studies as fast as he could and if possible, find another way to stop the prophecy. He had spent nights up researching in Celestino’s enormous library about curses and prophecies and anything related to the subject. Travelling for his studies allowed him to access much larger libraries and more specific information regarding prophecies._ _

__But it didn’t matter how much he researched…it was all just so hopeless._ _

__He had met so many so-called prophets and famous fortune tellers, the result had all been the same._ _

__Prophecies were never meant to be broken but if there was a small glimmer of hope, they could be altered to a certain degree but the saddest thing was that they would require sacrifice. Yuuri was almost scared to know the answer but it didn’t matter, there wasn’t a clear answer anywhere on how to do that. It was all riddles and languages so old there was almost no translation for them._ _

__His soulmate hasn't presented themselves yet, he was relieved but he knew that he would eventually meet them face to face. Even if they did, he had Viktor._ _

__Or at least he thought he had Viktor. He wasn’t sure about it but he knew that whatever the both of them had between them was no simple thing. It was an unspoken thing--a burning flame that could easily burn the both of them if they weren’t careful. The time that Viktor and he had spent together was precious, Yuuri sealed those memories away hoping to cherish them. Every letter Viktor sent him, he his away in a box underneath his bed._ _

__Trying to find a word for it didn’t do it justice._ _

__And Yuuri could decide if it was something else………or _love?__ _

__He scolded himself. Someone like him wasn't destined to be loved so why the hell should he delude himself into think that one day someone would._ _

__Love would be Yuuri assuming too much._ _

__The looks Viktor gave him were most likely temporary, the soft glimmer of affection in his blue eyes would one day turn to dulled out boredom. He would turn away from Yuuri, leaving him behind and Yuuri, who had too many problems and such little time, would be left broken in the dark. He knew he wouldn't completely fall apart if Viktor dropped him because he was suddenly disgusted by him but he knew that his heart would never recover from such a blow._ _

__But why would Viktor love a fool like him? Yuuri scoffed bitterly into his hand, how could he entertain such a silly thought? He got anxious easily. He couldn’t look somebody in their eyes for too long. He didn’t like large groups of people. He wasn’t _worthy_. His heart was encased in steel but it was still fragile as glass. Viktor needed someone who would help him rule one day, Yuuri wasn't that person. He could barely deal with his problems so how could he support Viktor? _ _

__Yuuri didn’t have anything special about him and even if people did say he did, he would look into the mirror seeing only a bland and boring reflection of himself. There was nothing about him that could keep Viktor’s attention for long. He could only prepare himself for the day that Viktor told him he never wanted to see him again. The sadness and anxiety ate him up till he felt like he had cried an ocean and breathed in the sky. It wasn’t until the sun had set into the sea that Yuuri sat up in his bed, staring blankly at the walls of his room. His plants had tried to reach him, to comfort him as he sobbed pathetically into his pillow. The mint flooded the room with its scent hoping to console Yuuri but it only caused him to cry harder._ _

__He finally got up on shaky legs which felt like toothpicks to walk over to the mirror placed on top of his desk. His reflection stared back at him with swollen eyes and blotchy face, the evidence of a day's worth of crying written so clearly on his face. Yuuri looked as he felt; tired and miserable. He hoped that maybe the redness of his face would fade before dinner._ _

__‘ _I look like a mess,_ ’ He thought, averting his eyes away from the reflective surface to his desk. His notes had been strewed about, the mess bothering him. The overstuffed journal was open, still missing pages that he was supposed to sow in._ _

__Yuuri felt empty on the inside accompanied by the feeling of resentment and anger mostly towards himself. It would fade in time (at least he hoped it would,) it was unhealthy to dwell on such emotions but Yuuri tidied up his room as he tried to distract himself from his problems. He threw open a window to get some air, the warm summer breeze swirling around his room pleasantly clearing the smell of mint that coated every object like a second skin._ _

__If he didn’t have a soft spot for the mint plant, he would have shot it a dirty look._ _

__The sun had set for the day signalling the grandfather clock in the hall below to ring out suggesting that it was dinner time. Yuuri didn’t feel any better, his heart more heavy than light but he tugged off his shirt with the snot stained sleeves anyway and tossed it into a basket before picking out a new shirt for dinner._ _

__Yuuri settled for a simple brown one, slipping on an equally simple black vest. It was too hot for a tie or cravat, the summer heat at its peak. He took one quick look into the mirror again, his hair stuck up at awkward angles making him look like a madman. As he ran his finger through his hair, the door of his room swung open with a bang. He nearly dropped his the mirror as Phichit came into the room with a wild look in his eyes. The Siam Prince huffed, clutching his knees as he tried to catch his breath._ _

__“Phichit,” Yuuri sighed, too tired to get even a little bit angry. “What did we say about knocking when---”_ _

__“Yuuri,” Phichit interrupted him, looking up at Yuuri with an unusually serious look. Yuuri closed his mouth, uneasy by the look in his friend's eyes. Phichit lifted the paper in his hands, holding it in front of Yuuri’s face. His eyes widened as he read the large letters printed on the front page. His demeanour was different from the last time he presented Yuuri with the morning paper with Viktor's picture on the front._ _

__Now he looked worried, almost anxious._ _

__Was it for him? _Or_......_ _

__“You need to see this!"_ _

The forest of the northern islands was ancient and old, its branches held both secrets and lost souls. IT was said that creature of myth and legend had chosen to make the island their home, extending their protection to the locals as long as they respected their home. There were even whispers of a golden dragon nesting in the highest mountain settled in the dead centre of the island but most who had journeyed to its peak were lost to the wind high above. Most people stayed away from the northernmost island, fearing the tales and the locals tell but Hiroko knew better.

After all, this was her home. 

What people called cursed was actually magic. Even after all these years, she could feel the magic and energy humming all around her.  
Her home had remained the same. The only thing that had changed was her. 

She could close her eyes, travelling back to all those years ago when she was a simple healer. It felt like yesterday when she had stumbled upon an injured princeling in the middle of the dense forest. 

Toshiya was never good at hunting with a bow. 

“Are you sure we should do this?” Minako asked, warily eying the passing tree trunks that had been bent and twisted with time. They didn’t mean to look sinister but their branches reached threateningly out to them like dragon claws. The light of the noon sun had been blotted out by the widened leaves that occupied the canopy above them. If it was up to her, she would've had a small battalion marching with them but Hiroko had insisted to leave them behind in the village and travel alone. “We can always go back. There has to be another way.”

“No,” Hiroko said, tightening her grip on the thin gold chain of the amulet her husband had enchanted. The diamond glowed blue glinting of the gold leaves around it, the dim light bouncing off the old dirt path and narrowly lighting their way. “If anyone has answers, it’s her.”

Minako stayed silent, her eyes glued to the back of the Queen. Hiroko wasn’t a young woman but over the years that they had known each other, she had not lost the fire that dwelled in her soul. The fierce determination and unyielding strength had led her through various trials and tribulations, it made her a Queen worthy of the title. But sometimes, she would catch her friend staring at the flowers in the garden with her husband. As strong as she appeared to be, every parent's weakness was their love for their children. 

She summoned a ball of fire, holding out so that their horses wouldn’t stumble in the dark.

The path had gotten steeper and steeper as they continued on their journey, the branches seemed to get lower and lower, brushing just above their heads. Minako ducked down, keeping the ball of fire close to her chest. There was no light beside the dim glow of the amulet and the flame in her hands. Minako could remember the last time she had been here. The memories were not pleasant and she could see the trees burning behind her eyelids. If it had not been for Hiroko who had rescued her, her soul would’ve been one of those wandering amidst the branches, looking for a way out. 

Her horse stopped suddenly, tossing his head. She tightened her grip on the reins, giving it a firm tug but Kuro refused to move another step. He nickered loudly lifting his front hooves up and nearly bucking her off. Minako jumped off, grabbing the bridle in order to keep the horse from bolting. 

“Leave him be, Minako.” Hiroko got down from her horse and tied the reins onto a branch. “It shouldn’t be too far now.”

The sunshine had returned to the forest floor slowly, filtering through the gaps in the leaves before giving way to a clearing filled with flowers and golden deer. A breeze floated through the clearing, entering into the forest, carrying promises of flowers and magic. A single large tree sat in the centres, its branches twisting towards the sky like towers.

Hiroko knew the secrets of this forest like the back of her hand but this was new. This clearing had never existed but here it was, clear as day. She took a step forward, the train of her green travelling robes brushing over the grass, Minako walked behind her extinguishing the flame in her hand. 

The golden deer looked up, staring at her with ruby eyes. They looked more like statues than actual deer, they antlers were tipped red as if blood had been painted on them. Given how were they were of the two women, it wouldn’t have surprised Hiroko if they had indeed killed people. The golden deer was known to be extremely territorial and elusive. Her father told her when she was a little girl that if someone ever hunted and caught a gold deer, it would have no choice but to grant you a wish. But like all tales, the price for the wish would be heavy. She briefly thought about hunting one of them. Whatever the price was she would be willing to pay it, but she only brought a dagger with her. It wasn’t enough to hunt a deer. 

There was a pitch black opening at the bottom of the tree, wisps of smoke and the scent of lemongrass flowed from deep inside. The amulet was tugged out of her grasp by an unknown force, flying into the hollow. Hiroko looked back at her companion and crouched down on all fours to enter the opening despite the other woman's protest. One second she was in the dark and the next her feet touched down on a carpeted floor, she was greeted by a large room with a burning pyre in the centre. A small fox slept next to the flames, unaware of the intruders. Its tail twitched briefly before laying still once more.

Minako pursed her lips, she never trusted foxes. 

The walls of the room were covered in runes, some ancient others new. Carpets had been strewn across the floors, mismatched and littered with various objects. Behind the pyre was a bed littered with furs, flowers and gold. Inside the nest of fine things was a single woman, hidden by the gauzy fabric of the curtains draped over the bed creating a canopy, only her silhouette could be seen. 

“Oh, another human,” the voice belonged to that of a young woman, it sounded bored. “It’s been a while since I’ve been visited a human.”

The silhouette got up, emerging from her nest. The fox woke up, yawning before trotting towards its mistress. The witch was beautiful with long flowing hair and pale skin, her small dark eyes highlighted by red pigments and her lips a rich ruby red that made it look like a crimson wound. She wasn’t human, anyone could tell by the way she carried herself. A white robe was wrapped around her slender frame making her look like a ghost as she walked towards the pyre, a sly smile on her face. The glow of the fire cast shadows over her perfect face, making it look twisted. 

“What do you want, human?” The Fox Witch asked as she walked around plucking things from every surface of the room. She murmured to herself. “I sense your urgency so I suggest you speak now.”

“Twenty-two years ago you appeared at the palace and delivered a prophecy for the prince,” Hiroko spoke up. “I want to know if his fate has been changed.”  
“Oh?” She tilted her head. “And why would I give you that information?”

Minako growled. “Because he’s going to die!”

The Witch turned to Minako, staring into her eyes as she held a blood red rose in her hand. A cold smile glimpsed her face as she walked toward the older women till she was only a few centimetres away, it was almost terrifying. If Minako had not been a brave woman, she would've grabbed Hiroko and ran from this place refusing to return. Good thing she was brave as she stared down the witch with unflinching eyes.

“And why do you care? You are not his mother. Humans are such odd creatures, they simply adopt and take others in despite not having any blood relations….,” She narrowed her dark eyes. “Or do you care for the boy out of guilt?”

Her inhuman eyes flashed briefly to Hiroko.

“I care for him because I raised him alongside his parents. I may have made him into a warrior but Yuuri is as much as mine as he is hers.” Minako said through gritted teeth. She could feel Hiroko lacing her fingers with hers, gripping her hand tightly. She was trying to be brave for her family and as well as for herself. 

“I trusted my son to Minako not out of duty but because I trust her. She has been there for me through the most difficult times in my life, she is family.” Hiroko said with a strong voice. “ _Now_ , can you help me or not, witch?”

The Fox Witch turned sharply on her heels and threw a few jasmines into the pyre turning it silver, the flames grew nearly touching the ceiling. Minako pulled her back before her robes caught fire. She kept throwing in herbs and flowers, the flame changed colours repeatedly till it settled on a glowing blue. The fox at her side swished its tale, clearing away the ashes and lending its power to its mistress. 

“I like gold,” She said staring into the fire. “And anything of use or value. Do you have anything like that, human?” 

“Will this do?” The Queen unpinned a golden brooch from her clothing, holding it out for the witch. “This is a dragon scale given by the last gold dragon of old, my husbands family had this for seven generations. It's supposed to bring good fortune to those who wear it. I had hoped that my children would inherit this but right now, that isn’t my primary concern.”

“Hiroko,” Minako hissed, “That’s a dragon scale! It’s the very last one---”

“The life of my son is more valuable to me!” She snapped before turning back to the witch, her hand extended with the brooch. “Will you accept this in trade?”

“Very well, human.” The fox witch snatched the dragon scale brooch, fastening it to her own robes. “I hope you know for what you ask.” 

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, inhaling the smoke through her nostrils till it was all gone. When she opened her eyes again, they glowed orange like lanterns on a stormy night. 

The fox at her feet growled at the both of them as she opened her mouth to speak the fate of Yuuri Katsuki:

_On the night of his twenty-fourth year, he’ll meet his end_  
_By the hand of his love, covered in blue and red."_  
_His glass heart will hold what is left unsaid,_  
_As his cold hand will hold what was unwed._  
_For there is no way to sever the fickle thread_  
_Unless you were to strike it dead._


	10. Petunia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petunia: Resentment, Anger, Your Presence Soothes Me
> 
> Songs for this chapter:  
> 'Health' - Blue Monday  
> 'Magic' - Coldplay  
> 'L'Au Revoir' - Laurant Perez Del Mar

Viktor gnawed on his chapped lips as he stared ahead at the dark oak door with a pit of anxiety bubbling up from his stomach. He didn't like this feeling, it was on the verge of overwhelming him. If it wasn't for the fact that his parents had urged him to talk to his cousin and try, somehow, to coax the Hellcat out of his den. A terrible idea really but it wasn't like Yuri could stay locked up in his room for the rest of the year, right?

_Right?_

It had been a full week and Yuri had refused to leave his room, snarling and throwing things at anybody who dared to enter his room. The Queen had even tried but even her soft words and soothing tone could do little to calm Yuri down in his rage, it surpassed her magic. To be fair, Viktor was surprised that this wing of the palace hadn't been burned down yet.

Yuri's brand of magic had always been fire, it wasn't uncommon. The only thing was that he had problems controlling it, Viktor couldn't count the number of times Yuri had accidentally burned something because he couldn't control his emotions.

Viktor has been the same

He did smell the faint whiff of smoke which made him weary. Yuri has the smell of ash and smoke follow him wherever he went, it even earned him the nickname of the Hellcat in various court circles. Viktor was skilled in combat and if Yuri wanted to fight him, he could easily stop Yuri but he doubted Yuri would try to burn him to a crisp.

Or at least he thought he wouldn't.

He raised his fist and knocked on the dark oak door three times firmly with determination. There was a loud thump behind the door followed up by an indignant 'Fuck right off, Viktor!'

Not surprising but Viktor winced visibly as something started to weigh heavily on his heart. Was it guilt? Frustration? Sadness? Or just a sickly mix of all three?

Viktor hasn't forgiven himself either but what choice did he have in the matter. These past few days had been trying for the both of them. The burden of the crown had always been felt by him and him alone, a gilded and highly decorated ' honour' that Viktor had learned to hate over the years it had adorned his head.The last thing he wanted was for Yuri to inherit that burden but life didn't care about what he wanted.

Viktor nodded towards Mila who stood behind him still as a statue with her hand ever present on the hilt of her sword. She bowed without saying a single word, her face betraying nothing of what her mind thought as she walked away giving them the privacy that was so rare in this palace. Viktor waited with bated breath, listening for her footsteps to recede, he wanted to have this conversation behind closed doors but it looked like he would have to have in front of one instead. He stepped closer to the door, pressing his ear against it.

Silence.

"Yura," Viktor said, his voice loud enough for the both of them to hear but open and vulnerable to his ears. He leaned his forehead against the cold surface of the door, eyes closed as he gathered his words from deep within his chest. Viktor had spent the night before mulling over what to say to his cousin but as he stood in front of his door with nothing but remorse and guilt, the words flew out of his head like birds escaping a falling tree. "I...I don't know what to say but I'm sorry. However, I do know you're angry and you have every right to be but you have to understand that this was my choice. Please, Yura. Say something."

He waited a moment hoping that door would swing open and his cousin would be staring back at him but the door stayed firmly shut. What else could Viktor say? The silence was a solid answer to his worst fears. He had practised what he was going to say to Yuri, most of his speech consisting of the words 'duty' and 'honour' and 'family' that burned on his tongue.

The last few weeks leading up to Viktor standing in front of his door had been tumultuous. There had been a brief period of time following him passing a piece of legislation through parliament, Viktor knew that it was only a matter of time before another problem would arise.

He just didn't expect it to be _that_ problem.

Viktor knew that he was hurtling towards his thirties. His twenties passed by him in a blur and before he knew it his mother was introducing every women and man from the court to Viktor to see if he would take a fancy towards them. Of course, Viktor wasn't surprised by the not-so-subtle way his parents diverted every eligible Highborn towards him. It wasn't that they weren't beautiful or interesting or rich or smart, it was just that he had no intention to marry. Part of it may have been the childish need to meet his soulmate but for the most part, Viktor had no interest in the whole spectacle of choosing someone. He always assumed that he'd get an arranged marriage.

His parents could only push Viktor so far, he wasn't that old but he wasn't going to stay young forever. They prefered to see their son and the future king to be married before he reached thirty.

Parliament, however, wasn't so happy with Viktor's prolonged bachelorhood. He was already twenty-six, to most royals and Highborns that was considered ancient. They were adamant to see him married and to see him with a future heir to the throne. So with the increasing pressure from Parliament mixed in with his parent's lectures about duty and family, Viktor had made a split second decision which teetered dangerously between the lines of madness and disbelief. He had bought himself enough time but in order to do so, he had to sacrifice his cousin. It was an action that he deeply regretted, the epitome of how selfish Viktor Nikiforov could be but it was done and there was no going back now.

The members of Parliament were splintered by the decision but could do nothing as the King and Queen had already agreed to it, they had no chance but to go along with it. They made the announcement to the press the following day.

By the next morning, Yuri Plisetsky was no more. _Prince_ Yuri Plisetsky of the house Nikiforov had taken his place without his knowledge leaving Viktor to deal with the aftermath and guilt that followed.

"Yura." Viktor tried again, his throat feeling tight. "Say something. Curse at me, yell at me. Please. Just say _something_."

He waited, counting the heartbeats in between the moments. The silence persisted, Yuri had said nothing leaving Viktor alone in the cold and empty hallway. A thin sheet of ice coated the surface where Viktor touched the door, it spread out and covering the gold tiger that had been engraved in the dark wood. There was the soft sound of rustling that could be heard as solid footsteps approached the door. It didn't open but this was good enough to Viktor, he was just happy that Yuri was talking to him. The door had grown warmer causing the thin sheet of ice to melt.

"Go away, Viktor." A small and broken voice said, muffled by the door dividing them. "Just go away."

It was enough to make a dent in his heart. 

 

 

Two weeks had passed by when Yuri had finally emerged from his room, coming down for dinner on a cool autumn night. Yuri would have kicked his cousin's ass if it was possible. Usually, Viktor would daydream about some foreign pig had nearly made him retch but that night Viktor could barely look his cousin in the eye. He wanted to spring across the table and seize his idiotic cousin by his fancy lapels, screaming into his face to be a man and own up his rulings. Of all people to feel sorry for himself, Viktor didn't deserve to. 

It was Yuri who had to live with the consequences of Viktors dumbass and stupid decision.

And to mention the fact that he made Yuri the most hated boy in parliament. It didn't surprise him during his coronation ceremony that several members of parliament had objected, his father had been the man to nearly bring down the country only a few decades ago. Parliament had been splintered, those who supported Yuri's right to be the heir and those who were against him. He knew that the ones who supported him only did so because they favoured his father. As if Yuri would ever turn on his family!

It was another thing that Viktor had failed to see, just one more problem to the heaping piles of conundrums. Thus was the life of the royal---Yuri called bullshit.

He blamed it on Viktor's new distraction.

Whoever this guy Viktor had called for was, Yuri made sure if he saw him in Kievran again, he'd kick his ass to wherever the fuck he came from. Not only did Viktor put him in the spotlight, he was writing letters to a damn commoner of all things. He knew the goddamn law that forbade Nobility from marrying anyone below them even if they were their soulmates. The chessboard had been set up from Viktor to lose and Yuri could see a few steps ahead, Viktor was playing a game that was rigged by god and society.

"Are you even paying attention, your majesty?" Lillia, Yakov's wife and famed advisor to the king, stared down at Yuri with eyes that pierced right through him.

Your Majesty.

His lips twisted into a scowl at the mention of his newfound title with a passion. Every time someone addressed him by that title, he felt a twinge of dread travel down his spine along with the chills. It had only been a few weeks since the hasty coronation and Yuri still wasn't used to that title.

When Viktor ascended the throne, Yuri would be the new Crown Prince if he didn't have any offspring. Yuri's life had been altered by Viktor's nature. He loved Viktor, he really did (not so much right at this moment), but sometimes he could be a great of a dunce!

Fuck, he thought to himself as he pondered his current predicament. All of this just because his cousin refused to get married anytime soon. Yelling at Viktor would do no good, he didn't have it like Yuri did. His parents weren't monsters and people didn't look down on him but Viktor was the Crown Prince as well as his cousin, Yuri had only a handful of people he called family. Viktor was the closest second only to his grandfather that he rarely got to see.

"Of course," Yuri said, meeting Lilias state head in. He applauded himself for not flinching even though he felt like a butterfly held down by pins when Lady Lilia raise her carefully shaped eyebrow studying the young man who may or not be king one day. There was just something about her that was dangerous. He wondered what are of magic that he specializes in but he didn't feel that it was his place to ask, how soon he would learn how Lady Lilla had earned her infamous nickname as the 'Ice Queen'

"I understand that you find your new found responsibilities to be......harrowing," Her face was painfully neutral, it was impossible to know what was going on behind her glassy green eyes. "--But Yakov and I have been appointed to guide you into being a proper Prince. If you feel like you are not cut out for this then you may turn over your titles and leave to the countryside to live with your grandfather."

He felt his eyes bulge as his mouth fell open at her harsh and unapologetic attitude. Granted Yuri looked like a mere child to her but he was still deserving of some dignity and respect! Yuri felt his expression morph into anger, his nostrils flared as he stood up a little straighter and his eyes danced as blood rushes into his face. Irritation and angst was one thing but Yuri had yet to be angry. And right now, he was furious. How dare she?! He couldn't just leave! No one could just leave. Leaving was out of the question!

"If you think that you have earned your title, you are wrong. You are still a little kitten pretending to be a Tiger but you fail to realize that when a tiger hunts, food is never handed to him," She said sharply, not bothering to address him with his title. The words were cutting, they pierced into him like pins into a cushion but there was a sense of truth to them. "A tiger will hunt for days, he will make mistakes and fail, but ultimately, in the end, the tiger will capture his prey and emerge victoriously."

There was a small twitch in her expression, the slightest hint of approval that made its way into her eyes as Yuri glared at her. The look of 'I could care less' lingered but Yuri could sense that she liked the spark of anger that glinted dangerously in his eyes. Anger had been his best weapon until now, it would take him no further but that was why Lilia was here, she was going to shape him, a raw ball of energy and fury, into a Prince with a steel heart encased in a layer of ice and grace. if Viktor could learn to encased his glass heart into steel, the Yuri could learn to turn his into stone.

"I'm not going anywhere," Yuri said, the calm of his voice surprising him. "I know my fate. I'm not some fluke that had the title just handed to me but I'm not an idiot either to not know that I received the title for a reason."

"Then why are you still angry?" She asked. "It's been several weeks."

Yuri rolled his eyes, huffing. "At Viktor? Yes, he's an idiot."

"No," Lillia said, glancing down at his hands. The tips of his gloves had been singed off as tiny flames flickered up against his hands. He didn't even know that he was doing it. Yuri shook his hand putting out the flames before they ruined his jacket. "At yourself, I mean."

"And why would I be angry at myself?" He asked.

"Because you're covered in red. It's practically dripping off you," She said, her chin propped up on her arm. Lillia didn't even blink. "True anger looks dark red, but the red that surrounds you is more.....scarlet. From what I know it indicates that you're survival oriented. That's good," Yuri sat there, feeling like a little boy left out in the cold winter. Lilla wasn't digging around his head but she was good at getting under his skin. Maybe that was just what he needed, a firm push. He kept his mouth shut, letting her continue to take him apart piece by piece ."---But I see a darker shade of green behind that. Resentment? Or Low self-esteem? Don't worry, I can easily mend that. And behind that is yellow. At least you're intelligent. You have no idea how many members of the court I see that lack that colour. And, _oh_." Her voice went flat, her eyes narrowed as if she didn't believe what she was seeing. "What's this?" Both of her eyebrows raised up in surprise. "How very unexpected."

"What is it?" Yuri growled, somehow finally able to speak. His heart beat loudly in his ears as he felt a bead of sweat travel down his temple, his coat felt too hot as if he was a coal in a burning furnace. 

"Pink."

" _Pink_?" Lillia nodded.

"Love," she confirmed when Yuri continued to look confused. "At your very core of your being, you are driven by love of all things. An unconditional love that transcends all things petty in this court. It is very rare to see this colour, I assure you"

Yuri was almost tempted to roll his eyes and bark out something sarcastic but Lilla had seen through him---analyzed him like she was a specimen---all in a matter of seconds. Lying to her would do him no good, he could only numbly accept the information that had been unexpectedly thrown at him but the so-called Queen of Thorns. It felt as if he had been dunked into a pool of cold water over and over, each time he sank beneath the waves he was screaming for air that was not there.

"Are you ready now or do you want me to continue? Like fire, you possess many colours." He shook his head, looking down at his hands. There was no fire viable but it burned in his veins and in his chest. His heart felt heavy but for a completely different reason. Yuri still didn't want the title, he viewed it as a curse but the situation was out of his hands. It didn't mean that he was giving up, he was just getting back up onto his feet. He still didn't know where his anger was going, for so long he had pushed it inwards allowing it to flow through his blood and ignite his heart. It left him charred on the inside, trapping the worst of it inside of him.

He wasn't ready. Not yet, at least.

The problem was that Yuri felt he wasn't cut out to be a Prince, for so long people had looked down on him. Now that he was a prince, it placed a target on his young blonde head. He blamed Viktor for this but there was also one more person he blamed. Yuri was going to settle this once and for all, then he would come back to the palace and in the process save Viktor from making the biggest mistake of his life. It would be killing two birds with one stone.

"Very well, then. When you decide that you are ready, come to my office. Good day," Lilla stood up, dusting cat hair off her black and green dress. " _Your Highness_." 

 

 

Viktor squirmed in the garden chair as he pulled his scarf closer to his body. It wasn't too cold but today the breeze felt like a knife slicing at his skin and clothes. Autumn had yet to come, the harvest season only a few weeks away but the summer had lingered tossing sun and rain onto the kingdom. Today was perfect for taking a walk in the gardens. The breeze wasn't bothersome and the sun was high in the sky.

Across from him was a woman dressed in a maroon dress with a tan overcoat draped across her slim shoulders. Velvety gloved hands that covered her soulmarks lifted to porcelain teacup to her plum-stained lips, she took a sip of the tea that had been presented to her, closing her violet eyes as she savoured the sweet taste. Her long dark hair was braided to the side secured but little gold flower pins, yet a few wispy strands were swept up by the wind. The patterned scarf around her neck fluttered in the wind like a hummingbird's wing, whipping the wind. She looked more like one of the Fae Queens from the many tales Viktor had read when he was a child. Her beauty could easily outweigh that of every flower that had been planted in the royal gardens.

It was no surprise that his father had arranged this meeting. The _real_ meeting, however, was between their parents and respective representatives who were busy updating trade treaties between the countries of Calabria and Kievran. There was nothing subtle in the way how their parents had pushed their children together to discuss so-called 'ideas' for 'future trade charters.'

Sara smiled at Viktor sweetly over the tip of her teacup which he returned politely as he considered if it was rude or not to just let Mila guide the twins through the vast gardens but in the end, he could imagine the cold stare his mother would give and remain in his seat.

She was beautiful and clever and a _royal_. Sara Crispino of Calabria was perfect for him in every way, she would have made a perfect queen for him but Viktor knew nothing about her. It wasn't uncommon for royals or nobility to forfeit their soulmates and marry others, when it came to power you married who was closer or above your station, never below. Or so society dictated, Viktor, on the other hand, had different ideas about marriage that had taken shape in the past few months. He looked at Sara, someone that would make his life easier, and couldn't help but feel a sense of pity. He didn't know a single thing about her; What was her favourite flower? Did she like to go on walks in the garden? Did she like mixing jam or honey into her tea? What were her hopes? Her dreams? What did Sara aspire to be; A Queen or something more than her title of Princess?

Viktor didn't know a single answer to those questions and a meeting like this wasn't enough to glean anything. Now if you asked Viktor any of those questions about Yuuri, Viktor would become an encyclopedia of information.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't stare at my sister so intensely, Your Highness." Viktor didn't realize how long he had been staring at Sara.

"My apologies, Your Highness" Viktor said, averting his eyes away with his cheeks flushed. "I didn't mean to stare for so long, my mind was wandering on its own."

Prince Michele growled, his nostrils flaring. "You keep my sister out of your mind, Nikiforov!"

What was his problem?! Viktor somehow managed to hold his tongue long enough for the Princess to admonish her twin brother for him. Prince Michele of Calabria, callous and quick to anger with a known sister complex. Victor thought that the Leroy boy was more annoying but he had been proven wrong.

That was an unwelcome trend.

Viktor wasn't offended, Mila had warned him before he agreed to this. His lips formed a thin line as his gaze turned ice cold. Viktor had better manners than to think terrible things like that of a lady thank you very much!

"Micky!" Sara hissed, setting the teacup down with considerable force that made the cup raffle. Viktor chose not to comment. "Apologize to his highness. That was rude of you."

"Sara, why are defending him?" Prince Michele growled. He turned his eyes back at Viktor shooting daggers at him as Viktor sipped his tea without a care, allowing the she-lion to handle it. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Mila's lips curling upward at the display between the two twins, at least she was having fun. 

Viktor could see the smug look that crossed her face and a flash of pride that glimmered within her blue eyes, he chose not to say anything. Mila could keep her secrets.

Princess Sara and Prince Michele were an oddity to other royals. Most Kingdoms had one person as the designated heir to the throne, however, in this case, they were both the heir apparent to the throne of Calabria. Most were baffled by the choice, certain that it would bring nothing but trouble in the future. Since the both of them had recently reached their twenty-first year, their parents weren't sure to whom the throne would go to. So, oddly enough, the King and Queen of Calabria devised a competition of sorts. Whichever of the twins would get married first would have the throne. So far the twins hadn't had any luck and when matches did come their way, they rejected them. (Or at least Michele did, but he did intervene when a man tried to court Sara.) Viktor knew he wasn't in any position to comment on how the monarchy of Calabria conducted their personal affairs but a throne without a legal heir was like leaving a nest with the eggs still in it, it would leave the throne vulnerable.

"Because we're his guests." The young princess explained to her brother, who had instantaneously taken a severe dislike to Viktor.

"I don't like the way he's looking at you," he said causing Viktor to choke on his tea. How could he just say that so casually? And in front of Viktor?!

"You don't like the way anybody looks at me!"

"For good reason, Sara. Someone needs to keep the vultures at bay."

"I know how to take care of myself!" Sara said tersely, her gloved hands forming fists. "You can't just dislike everyman that talks to me!"

"You've heard the rumours haven't you?" 

"Mikey!" 

Ah, those rumours. It had taken a full night of drinking and an untimely visit to a brothel (that Chris and handful of his soldiers dragged him to on his seventeenth birthday) for the tabloid to sink their grubby fingers into a potential story. From that day onwards Crown Prince Viktor Nikiforov: Playboy Extraordinaire had been born. He had gotten several earfuls from his parents as well as his advisor, including a fuming Lillia and a very purple-faced Yakov. It wasn't that hard to make the press 'forget' the whole thing, there were many bribes sent out to cover the costs, but it had put a very noticeable scratch in Viktors pristine reputation. Luckily for Viktor, he had a gift for making his weaknesses and turning them into strengths. The playboy aspect of him was considered by many to be a phase of teenage youth, but it did make up a facet of the closed-off mask that Viktor put on to fool others. 

At least he learned his lesson. He made sure to be more discreet when he had a lover over, the tryst didn't last that long and Viktor had woken up in a cold, empty bed alone. The dull hollow feeling inside of him seemed to remain no matter how much he had indulged the previous nights. 

Viktor dabbed at the stains on his jacket and scarf as their bickering carried a good five minutes, give or take. Sara seemed to be winning their little spat and he was happy for her, Prince Michelle seems too overbearing. It was enough time for Victor to finish his cup of tea. Other times this would be entertaining but today it didn't help to lift his spirits. His mood had started from the moment he woke up and this little tea party only furthered it. He was extremely bored out of his mind too.

Mila, on the other hand, looked like she was having more fun than the three of them. Lucky her.

At least he was getting some air, the four corners of his study had become tiresome, constricting him like a snake would a rat. He had been swimming in paperwork, trying to drown out his emotions by distracting himself. Usually, the letters he received and sent to Yuuri took his mind of the daily grind but in the past week alone, he hasn't received even a single letter from Yuuri which left him in a less than eager mood to do anything work-related. He just stared at stacks of paperwork, hoping that they would just magically go away until he stopped moping and worked through the pile.

Makkachin stirred at his feet, snoring through the commotion under the table. She was getting older these days and Viktor felt a twinge of guilt for neglecting his companion, she wouldn't be with him forever.

Maybe it was a form of punishment for what Viktor did or maybe Yuuri was too busy with studying for his board exams but still, he hated not having a new letter to read every day. It left a hole in his that was filled with memories rather than paper. He would much rather be having tea with Yuuri rather than listening to the dull arguing of fellow royals. It was a pity that the both of them lived in separate countries, the distance alone was tiring and he found himself dreaming about Yuuri more often than not.

Where was Yuuri now, Viktor wondered as he glanced up at the afternoon sky. What was he doing? These were trivial thoughts, he knew where Yuuri was and what he was doing but his mind was doing that thing where it wondered on its own.

His birthday was soon and Viktor had a present ready for him tucked safely away in the desk of his study. He had made it himself, Yakov had helped even though he voiced his disapproval every five minutes.

Viktor just hoped that Yuuri would love it.

He reached down to scratch Makkachin behind her ear, she opened her eyes bleary letting out a faint 'boof' before settling closer to Viktor.

Viktor wasn't as knowledgeable as Yuuri was when it came to plants. He only knew the bare minimum and that was only because his father had taken Viktor hunting when he was younger, showing him which plants were poisonous and which ones attracted game.

Yuuri had explained to him how Apothecaries went about their exams, many of them had to take an exam provided by them by the government. Many of the countries in the west had a Department dedicated to various forms of Research, most of them varying in mane but the goal was similar. Kievren had The Royal School of Medicine and Scientific Studies, the main building wasn't too far from palace but many of its apothecary and botany students would arrive at Ankov's Greenhouse, named after one of his many illustrious ancestors, located on the western grounds of the palace to learn about the various amount of plants within, foreign and local to the area.

(Viktor had learned the hard way to stay away from there, it was an area open to the public and the worst place to walk your dog.)

Once a student passed their exams, they were assigned to various universities and academies to practice. There were another set of exams, usually within the next year, focusing on which area the student wanted to specialize in. When they passed those exams then they would obtain a license from the crown of government, what they would do with it was up to them.

The whole process was complicated when Yuuri explained it through his last letter, he only grasped this much and nothing more.

Viktor was unfamiliar with most of it given how his education was that of a prince than a commoner. His tutors were focused on different areas of study such as; accounting, finance, diplomacy, public speaking, battle magic, horse riding and a slew of other things that a future king would need in his arsenal if he was to rule effectively. He was grateful for his education but it left him out of touch with the citizens of his country. Viktor knew how to effectively keep the accounts of the palace from falling apart but he was terrible at bargaining with a street vendor. He could ride his horse as if he was going into battle but struggled to ride a simple bicycle. He knew every secret passageway in the palace but he couldn't count the number of times he found himself lost in the streets of his own city. He could write bills and legislatures without even batting an eye with only hours for sleep but when it came to writing down a simple love poem he turned into a pile of mush that kept him up all night.

Was he not human? Could he learn that it was okay to make mistakes? He was allowed even that, right?

Many people would've said no. They would have told him to return to his cushy room in the palace and stay where he belonged, he was a prince, not some commoner. He had a station and a legacy and so many eyes on him. Viktor was the Crown Prince but so many forgot that he was human and humans made mistakes, didn't they?

His mind went back to Yuri and Viktor felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes, he blamed it on the breeze but he knew better.

Would Yuri ever forgive him, he didn't think so but he knew what he did was wrong. Yuri would learn to forgive him in time, maybe in the present or in the distant future, and Viktor desperately hoped he did. He'd wait as long as he could for his cousin's anger to diminish. The spot where Yuri sat when Viktor was in his study remained empty in the past weeks, they had barely seen each other and the only times they did was for dinner, and even then Viktor couldn't summon the courage to look his cousin in the eye. Guilt and shame swallowed up his pride for him before he could utter anything and by the time he did, Yuri had gotten up and left him alone once more.

Yuri was his family, Viktor swore he would find a way to earn back his trust but for now, he only hoped that by the time he became king, he could remedy what rift laid between them.

As Viktor stood in front of his door, he felt his heart break as he listened to the muffled sobs of his cousins. Yuri had cried before when he was a little boy, he usually yelled and screamed before angry, wet tears streamed down his face and sobs wracked his scrawny frame. He cried about his mother, he cried about his grandfather, he cried about how people treated him, he cried sometimes when he thought he was alone in the library. He had stopped crying when he became a teenager, toughening his skin to the point it had become steel but for the first time in years he was crying and it was because of Viktor.

And Viktor hated himself for it.

Some would say that Yuri was being an ungrateful brat, that he didn't know how good he had it. Viktor wanted to snarl at them to shut their mouths for they knew nothing of his family and what they have faced.

His cousin had every right to be angry at him, he named Yuri as his heir without even considering what the boy felt about it. He could've taken away his dreams with a single stroke of his pen in his selfish desires. Viktor didn't know what Yuri would have become if he wasn't named his heir. He felt the responsibility of robbing away his freedom and in turn lost every right to call the younger boy his brother.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Sometimes it really was all too much. God, he wished that he was closer to Calabria. Viktor humorously thought about catching a train south now but it was a tap on the shoulder that interrupted his impossible plans.

Viktor opened his eyes to see Georgi, standing before him. His skin was flushed as if he had been running and sweat dripped down from his temple.

What was Georgi doing here, he thought, Wasn't he supposed to be guarding Yura?

"Your Highness," Georgi started with wide eyes and out of breath. He kept his voice barely above a whisper. "It's the young Prince, he's missing from the palace ground. We've sent out our men to search for him, I've had a messenger dispatched to inform Their Royal Highnesses. One of our scouts spotted him taking the southern train to---"

_No._

God, _no_. This couldn't be happening.

Viktor stopped listening to Georgi ramblings, feeling as if someone had just punched him in the gut. Another breeze swept through only adding to the cold dread that crawled up his throat, he took a deep breath and stood up. Yuri _couldn't_ \---he _wouldn't_ do something as stupid as running away.

Could he?

What had he done?!

He had barely stepped foot outside the Rusberg since he was a child. What if he got lost? Or taken? Or worse? Viktor felt his heart skip a beat as he thought that. No, he had to get his thoughts together. Yuri was out there all alone and it was all his fault. He had to fix this.

Looked like he was going to Calabria after all.

"Sara, Michelle," Viktor got up from his seat and buttoned his jacket. "It was wonderful to meet you but I'm afraid we have to cut this meeting short."

"We understand, Viktor," Sara said, giving him a look of understanding. She reached out, gently squeezing his hand. The gesture was kind and caring, nothing fake about it. "I'll just have Mila give me a tour of the gardens. Tell the young prince I said hello when you see him." Michelle said nothing when Sara finished but he softened his glare at Viktor. There might have been a look of pity in his violet eyes but Viktor nodded at the both of them before he could notice, turning on his heels sharply.

Viktor gave hasty instructions to Mila on his way out of the garden as he followed after Georgi who notified him that he and a few other soldiers would go to Calabria to retrieve the Prince.

"I'll come with you," Viktor said without hesitation, This was his chance to set things right and he didn't care anymore, it was time to step and claim his mistake. "And we will take a smaller troop with us so that we don't attract too much attention. The last thing we need is the press getting a whiff of this and pasting it all over the front pages"

"But, Your Highness---!" Georgi spluttered. Viktor silenced him with an icy stare, one that his mother had perfected. "Very well, Your Highness. I'll make sure it'll be done."

"And notify Their Royal Highnesses of this." He said with narrowed eyes. "We will leave by dawn tomorrow morning."

 

 

Michele and Sara exchanged glances at Viktor's quickly retreating figure, they didn't have to say anything to understand the situation.

The sun was still high in the sky, it would take at least an entire day to get to Calabria to retrieve Yuri. It seemed Viktor would not be dining with them tonight given how he needed to prepare for their journey, the both of them were due on a train to Helvetia the very next morning. Their stay in Kievren had been part of a tour that the twins had been undertaking for the season, they would most likely return to Calabria by the end of the month.

"Well then," Michele said, no longer glaring holes at where Viktor was sitting. "He's gone and I'm going back inside. We should start preparing for dinner, Sara. Let's go."

"You can go on ahead, Micky." Mila nearly snickered at the red that crept into his cheeks. "I am determined to enjoy a nice walk in the gardens."

"Fine, I'll come with you." He said, pulling on his coat.

"Micky!" Sara groaned, rolling her eyes. She was already twenty one this past summer, she didn't need her brother to be shadowing her wherever she went! "I can take a walk around the garden perfectly fine on my own!"

The twins bickered back and forth once again, Mila stood there wish that the ground would swallow her up until Michele finally gave up, he snapped an exasperated ' _Fine!_ ' before leaving with his sword firmly buckled to his side. He told Mila to make sure no man would come within ten feet of his sister. Michele disappeared into the garden, presumably going back to his chambers before supper. Sara rolled her eyes once again at her brother's standoffish behaviour. She twisted the loose strands of her braid before turning back to Mila, an apologetic look on her face.

"I'm so sorry about--mmf!"

Mila didn't let her finish, swooping down to press her lips against Sara's quickly silencing her. Sara tried to recollect what she was about to say to the eager redhead before she sighed in bliss eagerly kissing back, she could feel a smile stretching across Mila's lips who stood above her. She pulled away, red dusting underneath her bronze skin as she came to her senses. Mila was thankful that the large hedges shielded them from view as she slipped her hands around Sara's delicate waist, pulling the older girl up and her closer to hold her properly in her arms, the marron skirts brushing against her boots. The shorten girl rested her hands on her shoulders, her finger tracing the design of the golden epithets that decorated Mila's strong shoulders.

She smelled same, like jasmines and freesia mixed in with a hint of spice.

It was like heaven. It was like coming _home_. 

"Finally! I thought he would never leave," the redhead said breathily before swooping down once again, her kisses turning from soft to passionate. She could feel Sara's hands leader her shoulders and slip her nimble fingers into her scarlet locks, slightly pulling at the soft strands.

"Someone can see us!" Sara hissed pulling away from Mila once again. She turned and grabbed her gloved hand, tugging Mila farther into the garden where there would be more privacy. The last thing she needed was for her new lover to be tossed into the dungeons because she was too excited to see her.

"I missed you."

Sara didn't turn around but Mila knew that the same smile rested on her gorgeous face mimicking hers. Mila could stare at this women all day and it still wouldn't be enough, the very memory of her had been etched permanently onto her heart ever since that fateful night at the ball. Sara was her soulmate, she was still coming to terms that someone this beautiful and smart and amazing and talented could ever be her soulmate. Every moment with her felt like she was living in a fairytale. 

"I missed you as well, mia amore."

Mila looked down at their entwined hands. The Aster flower with its blood-stained petals stretched across Sara's knuckles disappearing where their hands were joined, a similar flower could be found under Mila's gloved hand wrapped around her thumb and piercing the radial side of her wrist where her pulse resided under. She had seen in once before, when she was a young girl looking for the meaning of her flower, the book her grandmother lent to her stated that the Aster was symbol undying love, especially the red ones.

"Micky wouldn't let me out of his sight and this was the only way I could get away for some peace and quiet," Sara said, pushing a few branches out of the way that snagged her purple dress. "You don't think I agreed to simply meet Viktor just to discuss future trade agreements, did you?"

Mila barked out a laugh, lifted their entwined hands to her lips to kiss the sun-kissed skin of her soulmate.

"Lead the way, My lady!" Mila giggled, allowing herself to be pulled along through the unkempt part of the gardens all while staring at her with the happiest expression that graced her face. For once in her life, she had found some peace. In this garden, where the outside realities of the world couldn't touch them, Mila cherished these moments, it was a ray of light that shined upon her greyed existence. She felt like the earth, Sara was the spring that woke her from her dazed reality and coaxed her to the colour and splendour. 

Mila was determined to hold onto it as long as she possibly could---or until snatched her lover away and left her behind once more, cold and monochrome.

 

 

The smell of smoke and sheep floated through the crowded luggage carriage that Yuri his in. The sheep bleated loudest every time that an officer passed through in order to get through to the third class carriages. Yuri noticed that they came through every fifteen minutes for a quick smoke break before attending to the first and second class passengers. Sometimes they came in two or threes, gossiping about trivial things before the conductor snapped at them to get back to work.

It was when they were finally gone that Yuri was allowed to get up and stretch his legs. The sheep that hid Yuri bleated loudly when he tripped over the cages. The rest followed ensuite, creating a symphony of bleating and Yuri going " _Shhh!_ "

He cursed underneath his breath, glancing around wildly as he pushed himself up against a crate. He craned his head up, looking over the edge of the wooden crate towards the door to the third class carriages. A man opened the door, full yellow light spilling into the dimly litted room. Yuri pulled his knees closer to his chest and held his breath. He heard some ruffling and footsteps as the hand tossed some more grass towards the sheep. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as he looked around the film. He walked over to the crate that Yuri his behind. With each step he took, Yuri's heart threatened to beat out of his chest. The footsteps stopped and the hand grabbed a couple of oranges from the top. Two tumbled over from his clumsy hands, one hitting Yuri on the head on its way down.

" _Asshole, _" Yuri thought as he waited for the hand to stop fucking whistling a merry ducking tune and leave already!__

__The sheep have him a black look before returning to the grass it was chewing on. He shot a dirty glare towards the sheep as he grabbed one of the oranges that fell. Normally, he would feel back for stealing but then again if it wasn't for the guards at the station, he would've been able to purchase a third class ticket. Yuri even grabbed an oversized paperboy hat and one of Viktors shitty coats so that he could hide._ _

__Given that all eyes had been on him for the past week, Yuri was surprised how easy it was for him to sneak out of the palace. He grimaced, if it was that easy for him to get out of the palace then how hard could it be for an assassin to sneak in? He would have to talk to Viktor—-no, his aunt and uncle. He didn't want to talk to Viktor, and with the stunt, he pulled today he doubted Viktor would want to talk to him once he returned home._ _

__If he returned home._ _

__He bit down on the slice, wincing at how sour they tasted but chewed through it. Who even would want sour oranges?! He tossed the orange peels to the side in disgust, silently cursing himself for his hastily put together plan. The train ride to Calabria was express meaning that it would be stopping nowhere. It also meant that if the Palace Guards wanted to find him then they would have to wait till morning for the next train, this gave Yuri enough time to find this Yuuri asshole and talk (yell) to him about leaving Viktor alone._ _

__He lifted his hand, placing it on his chest where the envelope he swiped from Viktor's desk was. It only had a name and a seal on it but no address but Yuri didn't need to know the address to recognize Duke Celestino's seal, A five-pointed star with tapered ends and the sea engraved behind it. The words: Determination and Loyalty, written proudly in Calabrian underneath the star. The contents of the letter didn't really baffle him, he sneered at how this 'Yuuri' sounded. He was so unsure of himself, so weak-willed and soft worded that Yuri wondered what the hell this man possessed to make Viktor that enamoured. He didn't have a picture of Yuuri but the image he built up in his head in the past few hours wasn't kind at all._ _

___Viktor could be such an idiot_ , he thought as he tucked the letter back into his pocket. He closed his eyes, letting out a huff of annoyance. He still didn't understand why Viktor would do something like this? It made no sense to him and no matter how long he ran his mind in circles thinking about it, he received no answer. Neither Yakov or Lilia or his Aunt or his Uncle gave him a reason other than because Viktor asked for it._ _

__It was always about what Viktor wanted, wasn't it?_ _

__Yuri felt so betrayed, like someone took ripped his heart out of his chest and the floor fell out beneath him at the same time. He didn't think that Viktor could be so cruel, did he not think how this would affect Yuri? He could still close his eyes and see the wide-eyed stares of every member of the court during his coronation. Some eyes were filled with malice, others watching him like a lion would watch its prey and the rest staring at him with such indifference that he nearly snarled at their stony faces._ _

__He hated how weak he felt, he absolutely hated how power had been taken out of his hands without his knowledge. Didn't Yuri deserve a chance to decide what he wanted to do with his future?_ _

__Couldn't Viktor just ask him?_ _

__Why didn't Viktor just ask him?!_ _

__Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, Yuri wiped them away furiously angry at his own weakness. He had decided to stop crying the moment that Lillia had seen into his soul and took him apart with her glimmering peridot eyes, tears wouldn't help him now. The only thing that could help Yuri was himself. He needed to step up, and he needed to stop crying!_ _

__Yuri took off his scarf, using it as a cushion against the hardwood of the luggage car._ _

__To be honest, he didn't have much of a plan. Why was he even here, anyway? Would simply telling this 'Yuuri' to kindly fuck off and leave Viktor alone really fix anything? No, he supposed it wouldn't but at least he could direct his anger and frustration somewhere else till he pulled himself together._ _

__(Part of the reason he made this trip was to spite Viktor.)_ _

__He figured that the Duke would have to pay for his ticket back to Kievren once he realized who Yuri was. He would just make it up as he went._ _

__What was the worst that could happen?_ _

__As long as his Aunt and Uncle didn't send Viktor of all people to come and fetch him, Yuri would be okay. Or at least he hoped that he would be okay. It couldn't be that hard to navigate a city like Roma, he had never been there before but he assumed that it would be like the streets of Rusberg._ _

__Calabria was still ten hours away. For now, Yuri would ignore the sound of the engines that rattled loudly through his carriage and the smell of sheep as leaned against one of the trunks. His eyelids fell closed like the sun from the sky, the sound of the railroad tracks lulling him into a dreamless sleep._ _

__It wasn't until the dull morning light filtered in did he wake. When he stuck his head out of the window, he saw the proud seaside capital of Roma approaching him. Raindrops hit his face as the city drew closer to him, he pulled his scarf over the lower half of his face when he jumped off before the conductor could catch him. The sheep that kept him company through the night lazily turned their heads as he jumped onto the platform. Steam and the smell of smoke clung to him like a second skin as he ran through the thick crowds, past the guards and past the gates before merging onto the crowded streets of Roma. It wasn't till he looked up at the street signs and heard the unfamiliar language that was being spoken all around him did he realize that he had made a grave mistake._ _

__He clutched the letter in his hands as the rain began to fall harder. The raindrops pelted unyieldingly at the thick coat Yuri had on. Yuri looked left and then right and then left again, several people giving him odd looks as he spun around in a full circle, drenched from head to toe. Many people running for cover as Yuri just stood there admist the crowd of umbrella and coats._ _

__Maybe he should've brought the hag with him, after all._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for taking so long to update, school got in the way and I was just swamped.   
> Let me know what you guys think of this chapter, it was harder to write than the others.


	11. Purple Hydrangea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Purple Hydrangea - Heartfelt gratitude for being understood, to deeply understand someone

The raindrops pelted against the umbrella that Otabek held in his hands, most of the citizens of Roma ran for cover but he continued on. His shoulders were stiff from sitting in the same position all night as he studied, he was still deciding on what he wanted to pursue while he was here. Celestino, a kind man who just wanted what was best for Otabek, had suggested accounting. 

Otabek still grimaced at the suggestion, it was hard to tell with his expressionless face. His father told him once that he had a gift for numbers, he also told him that it would come in handy when Otabek would be king one day. Now that the situation had changed, Otabek would have to be practical about this. 

Count Celestino had connections in the Royal Treasury. If Otabek focused on his studies for the next three years and pass the state exams then he could easily gain a job in the treasury, there was just the issue of his citizenship. Currently, Otabek was here in Calabria on amnesty and his visa papers had been arranged by his government. The issue wasn’t major, he could easily obtain citizenship here. 

It had been a few months since he had arrived in this strange country, friends were a work in progress but he had settled down. However, there was one small thing that didn’t let him sleep at night. He couldn’t help but think of his family, his parents remained behind in Kazakh and his siblings had been sprinkled all over the East and West for their protection. His mother had finally written back several days ago, the situation had become worse much to his despair but his parents remained adamant about fixing the political crisis that gripped his country like a vice. 

He wouldn’t be going home anytime soon. 

The rain mocked him, or maybe it was crying for him? He wouldn’t blame the heavens for weeping for his situation. Otabek could clearly see the look of pity that was directed towards him; Count Celestino looked at him with sad eyes everytime he asked about his parents and the rest of the boys danced around the topic during dinner on Celetinos request. He hated how they treated him like a little boy, he had seen and experienced too much to be considered a boy in their eyes. The scars on his torso could testify to that.

The others weren’t sure how to approach him on the first day he arrived, Phichit only approached him because Celestino heavily suggested that he should show him around Roma. He didn’t dislike the slightly older boy, he just found him talkative but he did respect him and his cheerful demeanour even if he barely got a word in their conversations. 

Prince Katsuki didn’t really say much to him, he wasn’t as talkative as Phichit. He was nice overall, mild tendencies and equally mild smiles that he flashed at Otabek before returning to his books. On days when his longing for home was especially bad, Otabek would wake up from a long nap in the library to find a hot cup of strong jasmine tea resting on the table. He had never asked the demure and introverted man if he left him tea, mostly because Otabek didn’t want to overstep his boundaries.

Leo was a ball of energy compared to the demure and quiet Guang-Hong, the both of them were pratically joined at the hip. He never saw one without the other. They were a bit hesitant at first to talk to him, they kept not-so-subtly nudging each other to say something. Otabek, tired of their whispering at dinner, opened up a conversation about the weather because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

J.J. was…..tolerable. Otabek was warming up to him at a turtles pace. He was only a year or so older than him but every time he spoke with him, he managed to turn the conversation about himself. Although J.J. could be a bit too much at times, it was when he was quiet that Otabek could see what he was really like. Unlike Otabek who had crossed at least two continents to get to Calabria, J.J. had to cross an ocean while leaving his entire life behind. He often found the older boy staring at a picture of a dark-haired girl in the locket around his neck.

Otabek would unconsciously fidget with the ring on his hand, it was a gift from his father just before everything had gone so wrong. It grounded him when he felt like he was floating away. 

“Someone get help!” He heard someone cry out next to him. Otabek snapped his head up, his eyes looking up from the paved road towards a group of people huddled at the street corner, women clutching their hearts and men looking around frantically. 

“Help!” A man called out from the mass of bodies, “He needs a doctor!”

How are you going to get a doctor if you crowd around the body like that? He rolled his eyes at their lack of common sense. Otabek could’ve easily moved past the crowd but as the mass of bodies grew around whoever was injured, the more impossible it was for them to receive any help. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, taking a deep breath before turning sharply on his heels. There were so many things in his life that he couldn’t control but this, however, he could. He closed the umbrella pushing through the bodies. In the centre was boy laying on the floor, his golden hair drenched as the rain poured. The boy looked young, his body covered in a coat that didn't fit him. It wasn’t a coat for the rains of fall, it looked more like something one would wear in the winter months, the fur that lined it only soaked up the rain instead of keeping it out. He wondered if he was a boy from the streets that had stolen an ill-fitting coat, most would just leave the boy to freeze but Otabek just couldn’t allow that. 

The boy looked so helpless on the ground. 

He noticed something clutched in the young boy's hand, the ink partially smeared but still dry. Otabek pried the creamy envelope from his cold hands, his eyes searching for an address or name that he could safely deliver the boy to. There wasn’t anything but a royal seal which he instantly recognized. Celestino gave out a signet ring to all his wards so that correspondence could be easier on them, Otabek had one around his neck, tied to a string because the signet ring had been too small to fit on his pinky. The Count had offered to have it resized but Otabek didn’t really mind. He wasn’t the one for jewellery. 

He tucked the envelope into the inside of his jacket, he didn’t bother to read the contents. It wasn’t any of his business. 

Otabek glared at the people around him who only stared at the boy who looked even more, paler, his lips were starting to turn a startling shade blue from the cold that had settled in earlier this morning. He reached forward, hooking an arm under the crook of his knee and cradling his head against his chest before standing up. He ignored that strange looks people gave him as he pushed past them. He opened the umbrella again, awkwardly touching the handle between his side and his arm as he walked back to Celestino’s Manor. 

The boy was still breathing but it was shallow. He felt a pang of pity for him, it must’ve been terrible to be out on the streets like that. It was a fate Otabek himself had narrowly avoided.

 

 

It was pouring when Viktor had arrived in Calabria, the bodies gathering on the train platform as they turned to grey blurs through the first class window he was seated at. Georgi sat across from him, going over protocol and logistics. Viktor kept one ear open and the other lost in his thoughts. 

It was now late afternoon, the majority of the morning spent aboard the train as Georgi and his team of men frantically tried to gather information. The Calabrian government had agreed to keep things quiet, dispatching several officials in Roma to search for the wayward young prince. Viktor only hoped that his brother was still breathing, the unpleasant thought of Yuri’s corpse sprawled out on the parent had made its way to the forefront of his mind throughout breakfast, effectively killing what little appetite he had left. 

Taking an airship wasn’t possible due to the inclement weather that presented itself, thunder and high winds weren’t a pleasant combination. The last time Viktor had ridden an airship was when they recently debuted as experiments. The public had been fascinated by them but Viktor who had been forced to attend the demonstrations, he felt uneasy as he stared at the bulbous mass of hydrogen and aluminium. He remembered praying the entire time they were in the air and then walking off the ship if Yakov wasn’t there Viktor would’ve probably kissed the ground and wept. But now, however, airships were commonly seen through the skies. Of course, there were a few disasters here and there but in retrospect, it was a practical solution that had been offered to those who’d been willing to pay the outrageous prices for a ticket. 

The train rolled to a stop, the jerk cresting through the cars as he heard the familiar sound of the steam whistle going off. He could already see the reporter lining up, the cameras started flashing when he got off the train platform. Unlike Helvetia, the public stood behind the police lines allowing Viktor to ease through. Reporters clamoured for him, desperate from a mistake from his own lips. Viktor would not give them that satisfaction. The palace had already issued a statement regarding the disappearance of the young prince; he was simply vacationing in Calabria visiting an old friend. 

But why was Crown Prince Viktor Nikiforov here? 

Viktor was good at dodging questions but eventually, he had to give in. The excuse handed out to the press had been simple; The Crown Prince was here on matters concerning state and business. It was vague and perfect, nothing too complicated about it. 

“While Mila and her men work with local law enforcement to locate the Prince, we’ve been asked to attend several events to draw attention away,” Georgi passed Viktor the list of engagements that had been drawn up as they pushed their way into Calabria. Viktor could feel the circles under his eyes grow heavier, he didn’t have time for this! “But I’ve taken the liberty to clear all of the unnecessary ones out of the way, your highness.” 

He placed his finger next to the events marked with a red ‘x.’

“I assume these will be the ones that I’ll have to attend?” Viktor narrowed his eyes. “Georgi, there are only three events.” 

Georgi nodded, returning to his notes which were perched precariously on his knee. “We are on our way to the Mayor's house, we have a meeting with him. My assistants have taken the liberty to draw up a speech for you but after that, you have one more meeting with the press.” 

Viktor made a sound of disgust before he could contain it. 

“I am aware of how harrowing the press can be, Your Highness but you will only have to deal with them once.”

“And what of the second event?” Viktor asked, massaging his temples. He regretted leaving the rose behind but in his haste to leave for the morning he didn’t have enough time to grab it. 

“Short. You will have a quick meeting with the Minister of Finance.”

It could’ve been worse. It could’ve been another ball or party, he had always meant to meet with the Minister of Finance but other obligations had called him away. Viktor saw it as an opportunity, he had some things he wanted to discuss. 

“I’m sure the last event should be easy for you.” Georgi squinted at his sloppy handwriting, most of this had come from the wire but with the lack of sleep and constant moment of the train cart, his words had become nearly illegible. “A dinner party. It was very last minute but the advisors insisted on this one.”   
He spoke too soon. Viktor cursed himself for putting his foot into his mouth. 

“Who’s this pompous aristocrat do I have to meet?” 

The corners of Geogie’s lips quirked up in a smile that was all too knowing. “Ever heard of Count Celestino, Your Highness?”

 

Yuri was burning. The moment he opened his eyes, he screwed them closed and groaned. His head pounded like the dull drumming of a bass drum and his tongue felt like a block of wood in his mouth. 

He felt like utter shit. 

All he remembered was walking through the crowded streets of Calabria, clutching the envelope closer to his chest. Every time he went to ask someone about directions, they waved him away like he was some beggar given how his coat didn’t suit him and there was still soot in his face, he looked more like a pauper than a prince. He was already drenched, his hair a mousy mess while his hat turned into a mini pond atop his head. Yuri heard the sound of a crash, a cry directed towards him and by the time he was able to turn around he saw the horses hooves come crashing down onto the pavement. He remembered falling back and hitting his head on the cobblestone——and that was it. Everything went black

I must have passed out. Yuri closed his eyes, letting out a frustrated huff that made his throat hurt and his head feel like it was filled with water.   
That would explain why his head hurt so badly. 

He opened his eyes again, his eyes straining in the light. Everything came into focus very slowly. First, it was the canopy of the bed that hung over him, green tassels hanging from the bannisters like Christmas ornaments. Then the rest of the room turned from indecipherable blobs to shapes. The warm and dry sheets covered him up to his chin, he simultaneously wanted to throw off but keep on due to the chills that ran through his body. Finally, his eyes settled on a person who sat next to his bed, their head was rolled over and his arms crossed his chest as he lightly snored. 

Yuri didn’t recognize the man, he looked only a few years older than him and half of his face was obscured by a book. 

He felt like he underwater when he sat up. Yuri felt like His brain had melted due to the heat that burned in his chest and sloshed around his ear. The last time Yuri had gotten this sick was when he was a child, his grandfather had been close by. He remembered the sound of faint praying and crying as he went in and out of consciousness, it wasn’t till he woke up a week later that he learned how close to death he was. 

The door opened and Yuri swivelled his head, his neck muscles protesting. A face peeked his head out, brown eyes peering through rectangular glasses glanced at him. They smiled softly before stepping into the room. 

“Ah, you’re awake----”

“You!” He growled out, throwing off the covers and leaping at Yuuri determined to punch him in his face. “You asswipe!”His hands had curled into fiery fists ready to strike but He didn’t get very far, and the fireball in his hand sizzled out as he found himself on a heap on the ground, the covers tangling around him as he struggled as a feverish person could. He growled, throwing profanities into the air. 

“Oh.” The man in the chair said as he rubbed his eyes before looking down at the tangled and unruly mess that was Yuri. “You’re awake. That’s good.”   
“You must be quite tired, Otabek.” The dark haired man said, he set a mortar and pestle down on one of the tables. “You should get some rest. I can take care of His Highness.” 

“No,” Otabek yawned, throwing the throw off of him. “I don’t mind helping, Yuuri.”

Yuri opened his mouth to ask where the fuck he was but he felt his lungs and throat protesting as he started coughing, it sounded wet and visceral. It was like his lung was trying to rip itself away from his chest and crawl up his throat. His eyes started to water and he pressed his fist against his mouth to stifle the fit of coughs that racked his body. Gentle hands rubbed soothing circles on his back, a tingling sensation bloomed in his ribcage travelling upwards, past the lining of his throat. His coughing ceased much to his relief. He turned around to see Yuuri Katsuki with his hands glow a calm shade of green as he felt his breathing improve a little, he could smell only a hint of mint and rosemary through his stuffy nose. 

Yuri didn’t know what to say as he stared at Katsuki, he had painted a picture of some manipulating bastard with a wretched look in their eyes but instead, he was met with a soft (and foreign) face with an equally soft voice and touch to go with it. His eyes were dark, there wasn't anything dangerous in those eyes. 

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

Yeah, Katsuki was definitely Viktors type. 

“Take a deep breath in and out,” Yuuri commanded in a gentle but firm voice, like that of a parent or teacher. “The medicine will help with your cough but I need you to breath." Yuri nodded mutely, feeling too drowsy and fatigued to start yelling. He took lungfuls of the medicinal herbs that we prepared with him, his airways absorbing it and getting to work to heal his body. 

“Otabek,” he heard Yuuri day. “Could you—-?” Two strong arms lifted him up from the floor before setting him gently on the bed. The man picked up the covers from the floor, wrapping Yuri in the warm material. He squirmed in his arms, not all appreciating the fact that he could easily be picked up. 

First Mila and now this guy. Great. 

“That works too!” Yuuri said as he tucked Yuri back in. 

Seriously? What was with this guy? He was way too nice. If those assholes in Parliment ever got a whiff of him, he wouldn't last day. It didn't matter if Viktor could protect him or not, kindness and soft eyes had no place in their world. 

Otabek sat back down in his chair and Yuuri began to prepare something, Yuri felt too tired to turn his head to see. 

“Where the hell am I?” He asked, his voice hoarse. 

Otabek barely smiled, his face impassive as if he was part stone than man. There was nothing comforting about him, it was like he emulated both winter and ice. Yuri met his eyes and held them, silently demanding answers. “Calabria."

"Gee, I thought this was the fucking Kingdom of Helvetica. My mistake." Yuri said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "I meant where am I exactly?"

"Otabek," He heard Katsuki say in an exasperated voice. "Stop teasing His Highness. He needs to rest." 

"Celestino Manor.” Yuri gave him a weak glare, Otabek only looked amused. 

“Okay, thanks. That's all you had to say. So who brought me here?” 

“I did.” He said. “You were passed out on the street and I saw that you had a letter with the Counts official seal so I assumed you must’ve had business with him prior.” Otabek shrugged, nearly knocking the book off his lap. “So I brought you here.” 

Yuuri's hands stilled, his eyes widening but neither Otabek or Yuri saw his reaction. 

So many things could’ve happened to Yuri. He could’ve been killed by a mugger or kidnapped by somebody who recognized his face or a million of other things that didn’t bode well for him. He considered it miraculous that it was the man sitting in the chair who found him instead of someone else. 

“Spasibo,” Yuri said, bowing his head politely. He made a silent note to thank this man properly after when his head didn’t feel like a bunch of fairies have a party in his head. 

“Thank Yuuri,” Otabek said, gesturing to the dark-haired man. “He helped more.” 

“But you carried me,” Yuri pointed out. 

“And he took care of you while you weren’t conscious and he tied those bandages around your head.” He raised a thick, dark eyebrow at him. He didn’t press any further. Yuri reached his hand up, the pads of his fingertips brushing the gauzy material that had been carefully wrapped around his head. “I was supposed to alert him when you woke up but I see you’ve already had that taken care off.” 

So his head was bleeding too? Yuri felt his heart halt and then start again. Yuri silently nodded, feeling his throat tighten uncomfortably and then turned to Yuuri who peered at him behind his glasses, eyes like a fawn in spring. He sensed no malice or danger from him but looks could be deceiving. 

“Thank you,” he said through his teeth before turning back to Otabek to thank him properly. He would deal with the foreign pig later. (He felt a little guilty for calling him a pig though, Yuuri helped him after all.) 

Yuuri smiler, soft and warm. Nothing like what Yuri imagined him to be. He felt his heart skip a beat but for a different reason this time. He could see why Viktor fancied him. “Your Welcome, Your Highness.” 

“I’m going to get more food,” Otabek said, stretching his hands above his arms. There was an audible pop followed by a wince that Yuri caught. “Do you like cabbage?”

Yuri made an odd face. “Depends on how you make it.” 

“Ever has cabbage soup?” 

“Sounds disgusting,” Yuri said wrinkling his nose. 

“I assure you, it’s good” He turned back to Yuuri who was finished with the leaves he was grounding. “He should be able to keep it down, right?” 

“He can hear you!” 

The two men ignored the young boy. “I’m sure he’ll be able to digest it.” 

 

 

It was well into the evening when Yuri had settled down. There had been no conversation between the two, the younger boy kept shooting him odd looks as if he was sizing him up. Yuuri had to use the gentlest voice he could muster to coax Yuri to take his medicine, in the end, Yuri lifted the odd smelling drink to his lips, making a disgusted face as he downed the contents of the cup in seconds.

Yuuri placed a wet cloth over the young prince's forehead. The boy didn’t protest as much as he did earlier, he only mumbled his thanks and fell asleep once more. The fever still raged underneath the surface of his skin, Yuuri only hoped that it would break by tonight. He lifted his hands pushing a few stray bands away from his face, the more Yuuri started the more he could see the resemblance that he and Viktor shared. There was the subtle curve of the nose, the long fine lashes that fluttered ever so slightly, the shape of his chin. One passing glance and somebody would miss it but Yuuri has etched Viktors face into his memory, he could tell that this was his cousin. 

Viktor would most likely come looking for his missing cousin, a missing prince was no laughing matter. 

The news had broken several weeks ago just before his apothecary exams. A picture of the young prince in all his finery has been plastered across the front page of the evening news that Phichit had pushed into his face, Viktor stood behind him in his own royal ensemble looking cold and uncaring.   
It was the mask that Yuuri hated, the one Viktor wore to hide from the world. 

In the past year, he’d learn much about Viktor; he was honourable and brave and intelligent and surprisingly wise, many of the things Yuuri couldn’t see in himself but Viktor embodies so well as he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders like a Prince was expected to. But every burden that weighed him down could only be seen when one took the time to sit down and stare into his eyes, it was etched there clear as glass. The pain and weariness that he carried around, hidden with practices ease but not to Yuuri. 

He just knew. 

Somehow, in the rapid passage of time, Viktor had become important to him, a close confidant and something more; he became something that teetered dangerously between the line of friend and lover, (or maybe Yuuri was finally losing it after spending too much time indoors.) He would dream of more but Viktor, with his heart-shaped smiles and gleeful eyes, couldn’t possibly think of Yuuri like that. 

It wasn’t about the Nobility Law, Yuuri could easily reveal who he was in a second. No, the problem was with him. Yuuri was too terrified of his soulmate, the very idea of facing them one day would spell his death by their hands and the last he needed was to bring Viktor into something like that. 

He hadn’t given up, he was determined to save his life and if he lived past this ordeal, maybe he’d allow himself to dream about a life with Viktor. 

Maybe. 

But for now, all Yuuri could do was take care of Yuri and deliver him safely back to Viktor. 

That was easier said than done. Yuri’s fever had only broken in the past few hours thanks to his healing spells and medicines but that didn’t mean he would be able to make the journey back to Kievren. Yuuri didn’t have his license yet to practice but it didn’t take a professional to see that Yuri would need a few days of bed rest. 

“Yuuri,” Phichit called from him, his voice just a few octaves lower than usual as he gestured to Yuuri frantically. “Yuuri. Yuuri! Yuuuuuuri---!”

“What?!” He hissed as he saw Yuri stir from the corner of his eye. 

“You need to come downstairs!” Phichit said. 

“But what about Yuri?” 

“Let Otabek handle him!” 

Yuuri glanced at Otabek who was silently reading, he looked up once in a while to look at the young prince before returning to the pages. It didn’t feel right to leave him alone but with Otabek there, Yuuri could sneak downstairs for just a bit to see what the fuss was all about. 

“What the fuck are you assholes whispering about?” Yuri rasped, opening his eyes to weakly glare at Phichit and Yuuri. “If it’s my dumbass cousin, tell him I’m asleep.” 

“Will do, Your Highness!” Phichit chirped. 

He quietly got up, murmuring instructions to Otabek before he follows Phichit out the door. He seemed quiet, which Yuuri has learned was never really a good thing, and no matter how much he wanted to roll his eyes, he follows him. Maybe it was a surprise birthday party?

He never really made a fuss when it came to his birthday. In Oyeshima, he would be huddled around the kotatsu with his family (Including a teary eyes Minako and the Nishigori's) while his mother would present him a handmade Katsudon. For the past few years, his birthdays had passed in an unorthodox manner. Everyone gave him gifts for some reason, he didn’t really understand it. A simple ‘happy birthday’ would have sufficed but knowing Phichit and Celestino, it wouldn’t. 

A not-so-surprise party only amused him. 

The both of them descended the staircase, Yuuri running his fingers through his hair but stopped the moment his foot touched down on the marble floor of the main foyer. Yuuri felt his heart in his throat, he nearly bumped into Phichit. Viktor, dressed impeccably, stared at Yuuri and Yuuri stared back, uncertain about what to say as Viktor stood there with his mask so clearly on his face. There was no warmth or affection, only cold indifference which made Yuuri's stomach churn---half in excitement and half in dread. He fought to keep his face neutral. 

He highly doubted that Viktor was his present. 

Celestino stood at the entrance of the foyer, shaking hands with several of Viktors men as Guang-Hong and Leo looked on with awe.   
He wouldn’t admit that it stung as Viktor looked at him like that but he understood why he did. There were always eyes on Viktor.   
Yuuri shook his head to clear away his thoughts. Now wasn’t the time for such sentiments. 

“Your Highness,” He simply said, bowing to Viktor. 

“Mr. Katsuki,” said Viktor in return. He threw him a quick wink that sent red pouring into his cheeks. Celestino and Phichit exchanged glances, the elder clearly exasperated. 

Celestino apologized for the cancelled not so surprise party, Yuuri didn’t mind. He was actually relieved. The dinner that they shared with Viktor and his men was amicable but frigid with formalities. Yuuri could barely lift his eyes from his roasted lamb, Phichit nudged him in a not so subtle manner when Viktor had asked him something. Yuuri felt the blood rushing past his ear as he looked up at Viktor, chastising himself for the shyness he felt. He should’ve been well accustomed to Viktor, not to blush like some stable boy every second. 

“Yes, Your Highness?” He caught Celestino going rigid, looking down at his boiled potatoes with false interest. It seemed the entire table had gone silent as well, even JJ took a sip of his wine pretending to admire the chandler. 

“I’ve heard through the grapevine that today was your birthday.” There was a hint of mischief that was hidden behind those eyes. Yuuri threw him a dry look. Typical of Viktor, always trying to pull some sort of reaction out of him. “Is it true, Mr. Katsuki?” Yuuri nearly snorted. No—he nearly barked out laughing. Instead of laughing at Celestino's high profile guest, Yuuri nodded as his lips curled softly upwards. 

“I’m deeply sorry for ruining your plans for the evening.”

“No, Your Highness,” Yuuri said, feeling like his heart was going to rip out of his chest. He didn't realize what he was saying, the words tumbling from his lips. “If anything, your presence alone makes this night all the more memorable for me.” 

He heard a utensil fall to the surface of the table with a metallic clank. Yuuri, who just registered what he just said, widened his eyes in embarrassment while turning a whole new shade of red for Viktor to swoon over later. Phichit sat next to him, his body shaking with contained laughter as he held the napkin of his mouth while Celestino looked like he was going to need a strong drink to survive the night. Captain Mila, the strong redhead who sat next to Lieutenant Georgi who was choking on her wine, snickered into her wine goblet. The other members around the table expressions ranged from shock to mortified to indifferent.   
Viktor had frozen, his arm halfway between his mouth and his plate as the piece of lamb slid off the tip of the fork and landed on the plate with a mortifying splat. 

“Er—-I mean!” Crap. Yuuri started stuttering. He had to rectify the situation before it got out of hand. “What I mean to insinuate is t-that you made this night very memorable for me—I mean, for us. Here. As Celestino's guest,” He said brokenly feeling that Celestino was about to drop dead from a sudden aneurysm. “Your Highness.” 

Viktor was turning a soft shade of pink that crept into his cheeks and dusted over his nose, his eyes on a stuttering Yuuri. Yuuri just wanted to crawl under a rock an die! Gods, the others must think of his less now after that blunder. He just hoped that what happened in the dining room, stayed in the dining room.   
“Well then!” Celestino said, thankfully providing a well-needed distraction from the sudden awkwardness that settled around the table. “I hope you gentlemen love sponge cake! It’s wonderful during this time of year and my personal chef—-“

Yuuri stopped listening as he took a sip of his drink and looked anywhere but at Viktor. He didn’t notice that Viktor had kept his eyes on him till dinner had ended. 

 

Yuri woke up, jolting awake from a feverish dream that he could not remember. His stomach twisted with nerves as cold sweat made the fringes of his hair stick to his face. He felt someone place a strong hand on his shoulder, guiding him back to the soft pillows behind him. Otabek didn’t say anything, he grabbed a towel from the basin beside the bed and dipped a towel into the cool water. He folded the towel into a neat rectangle before placing it on the young prince’s forehead. The cloth over his forehead did provide some relief.

He tucked the young man in, pulling the covers up to his chin before sitting back down in his chair. Yuri looked tiny into the large bed that he was given, the pillows nearly swallowing him up. He turned his head, eyes squinting at Otabek. 

“I didn’t catch your name earlier,” Yuri rasped. 

“Otabek Altin.” 

“Altin, huh?” The younger boy scrunched his eyebrows together, trying to navigate through his fever thick thoughts. “That name…...it sounds really familiar.”   
Otabek didn’t comment. Celestino had warned him not to tell anybody who he was back in Khazak, his title was hollow here and it would only serve as a beacon to would-be assassins. He had a different last name assigned to him for safety reasons even though he found ‘Otabek Ayu’ a bit odd. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yakov told me about it once but I can’t seem to remember what it was about.” 

“Was it important?” He asked. Otabek recognized the name, it had been one of the many noble that his mother had considered sending him to before finally settling on Celestino. 

“Can’t remember. I think it was before I took my newfound ‘princely duties’ more seriously.“

“I’m confused,” Otabek comprehended what he just said. “Aren’t you the Crown Prince?” 

“Me?!” There was a sharp laugh followed by a wet cough. Otabek placed his hand on his back, the other hand grasping his wrist as he pulled Yuri into a sitting position. He handed him a glass of water to soothe his throat “No, I’m not the Crown Prince,” He said finally. “Viktor is. I’m just the spare, he’s the heir.” 

“Nobody would just go out of their way to look for an heir, he must care about you a whole lot more than you think,” Otabek remarked. He gently pushed the younger boy back down before sitting in his chair. The book on the nightstand looked awfully tempting to read but he turned his attention back to Yuri who was staring at him with half-lidded eyes. “Yes?”

“Altin,” Yuri said. He tried to lift his hands up to wipe away the loose strands of hair that threatened to obscure his vision but his hands were trapped by the blanket. Otabek leaned forward, tucking the damp stands behind his ear. “I know that name. Wait a fucking second! You’re the missing prince of Khazak, aren’t you?” 

“I suppose nothing gets past you, does it?” Otabek said with sarcasm laid heavily onto his words. 

“Yakov wanted you in Rusburg, something about me having friends.” Yuri chuckled. “One missing prince finding another missing prince, what are the odds of that?”

“Some would say impossible.”

“Welcome to my world.”

 

Viktor had been staring at the ceiling for hours, no amount of tossing or turning or counting sheep could assist him in getting any sleep. He kept glancing at the clock that sat on the mantle of the fireplace, the shorthand was dangerously close to twelve. 

He groaned, sitting up in bed. 

How frustrating. 

The past two days might as well let him replace his silver hair with white. 

He was relieved that Yuri had been found, he didn’t know what he would do if Yuri had been hurt or lost or god only knew what else. He had cried earlier that night, mostly on relief, when he finally made it to his chambers. Viktor hadn’t been able to see his cousin since he was still recovering from a very high fever. Celestino had told him that Yuuri was the one who helped to reduce the fever and another boy named Otabek who found Yuri passed out on the street.   
Yuri curled up on the pavement, pale and unmoving. The image made the blood drain from his face, he could still feel his stomach twisting sharply at the fact that Yuri had been hurt because of him. He would have to make it up to his cousin, he just had to wait for Yuri to recover before he could have a proper talk with him. The weeks the both of them had spent ignoring each other only put a strain on them. 

Viktor wanted to fix it so badly. 

The ticks of the clock were driving him mad, he hadn’t even had a proper chance to talk to either of the two people he wanted to see. Yuri had been resting in one of the suites in the northern wing of the manor and he didn’t even know where Yuuri was. 

There hadn’t been a single moment since the moment he had arrived at the end of dinner where he could simply talk to Yuuri. 

_If anything, your presence alone makes this night all the more memorable for me.’_

His heart was flinging itself at his ribcage as he felt his ears burn remembering the soft look that passed between them during dinner. It was like the world had suddenly been pushed away from their senses leaving only the two of them alone in that moment of time. One second he was gazing at Yuuri's ever reddening face in wonder and Celestino had said something about dessert. He barely caught a glimpse of Yuuri as he brushed past him and hurried up the stairs, the bright blue scarf trailing in the air behind him. 

Poor Yuuri. He must’ve felt mortified. 

Viktor had learned that Yuuri liked to avoid embarrassing situations but it did result in that adorable blush that made its way across his face that Viktor had dreamed of kissing one day. He groaned again, running his hands through his hair.

He needed to get a grip.

The clock read 11:17. Yuuri's birthday would end soon and he didn’t even get a chance to celebrate properly because of Viktor. Another thing for Viktor to pity over. 

He rolled off the bed, grabbing his night robe before slipping through the door of his suite silently. Viktors hand curled around the small box in his pocket as he walked through the corridors of the manor looking for Yuuri’s room. He vaguely remembered the scent of mint that strongly accompanied the letters that Viktor had gotten, it didn’t smell like something that was rubbed on just for fashion's sake but like it lived in the very room. 

Mint. 

Now that he thought about it, Yuuri had the faintest smell of mint when Viktor had danced with him. It was nearly lost in the scent of flowers and spices that floated around in the ballroom. 

Viktor was in too deep. He was drowning in this emotion--whatever he and Yuuri called it. 

If the thought of Yuuri’s scent made him giddy on the inside like a like a schoolboy then Viktor wondered how he would react if he saw him in the flesh. Viktor would most likely jump into the younger man's arm and smother him with kisses if he had his way. And, god, did Viktor want to kiss Yuuri. He had thought about ever since that spring night in Calabria. Yuuri was so close to him, so close that he could feel the heat rolling off his body and the flecks of gold that was illuminated by the golden mask he wore, Viktor would’ve only had to lean in and press his lips against his. 

But no, that wasn’t how it worked. 

Yuuri had drawn his boundaries and even though every nerve in his body wanted nothing else but to stay close to him. Viktor would have to respect Yuuri’s wishes. He knew that somewhere deep in Yuuri’s soul he must have had some affection for Viktor, he could see the way that Yuuri looked at him. His eyes turned warm and golden with a hint of bewilderment when he stared at Viktor as if he couldn’t believe that Viktor was real. 

Why did he keep Viktor at arm's length? It frustrated and intrigued him.

He had lovers before, some had kept their distance from him before taking him to their bed. Those relationships had only meant to last for a night, nothing at all like the way he envisioned being with Yuuri. 

Was he intimidated by the fact Viktor was a prince? Viktor knew that others would have cowered if he spoke to them, but Yuuri wasn’t other people. He was Yuuri. He did skirt around him sometimes but he treated Viktor normal; speaking his mind, giving advice, and looking at him with an adoring look when he thought Viktor wasn’t watching. (Something that Viktor found endearing.) 

No, it wasn’t intimidation. Yuuri wasn’t scared of him. Hesitant and skittish, yes. But fear, no. 

Viktor would never dare of hurting Yuuri. He wanted nothing but to cherish him.

Or could it be something else? What demons lurked in his soul? Yuuri was hiding something, it showed on his face and in his letters. Viktor could stare all he wanted at the letters on the page but the words didn’t reveal their true meaning, much like the hand that wrote them, it was a maze of enigmas and riddles.   
Viktor was missing something. He just didn’t know what it was. 

And here Viktor thought that he had him all figured out. 

Hubris. 

His footsteps echoed as he passed corridor after corridor and creepy painting after creepy painting. Hadn’t he passed that set of armour already? And that vase? Viktor peeked down the hallway, swivelling his head like an owl before choosing a random corridor. Everything looked so different at night, it was almost like the Manor took on a life of its own when the sun dipped below the horizon. The security around here was rather lax something that Mila had found upsetting. There wasn’t even a hint of the staff bustling around like mice. If this was the palace there would be guards making the rounds almost every hour. Viktor would know, he had spent a good majority of his youth sneaking in and out of the palace. (When he got older, he sometimes brought company.)

Too bad I didn’t bring one of his letters, Viktor thought glumly, I could’ve used a locator spell for this. Or brought Makka, she would’ve loved Yuuri.

Moonlight streamed through the closed curtains, illuminating his figures as he passed through the pillars of dull light. The gas lamps were low, pale orange light clashing with moonlight creating a clash of colours that made his face look like a terrifying spectre. Maybe he could try to sneak into Yuri’s room and scare him, just to be petty, but he didn’t want to get punched in the face. 

(How was he supposed to face Yuuri with a bruise on his face?!)

He huffed when he came to a stop atop of the grand staircase, the one that lead into the grand foyer. A large window panel illuminated the scarlet carpet, turning it a pale pink crossed by the shadows of the panels. If he descended down there would be the doors to the dining room and another hallway that would lead to one of the many parlours. The air was still here, a bit of cold nipping at his bare feet as he lurked around in another man's house like a ghost. 

“Lost?” Viktor jumped, his heart skipping a beat as the silence was interrupted by a chipper voice. He looked around but the two corridors leading to the separate wings of the manor remained empty. “Down here, Your Highness!” 

At the foot of the stairs stood a young man, with tanned skin and laughter filled creases lining his eyes as he looked up at Viktor with a heap of food in his arms.   
“Remember me?” He asked as he walked up the stairs. 

“The Prince of Siam,” Viktor recalled. “You were the one who dragged Yuuri away when he got drunk.” 

“And the one who bravely tackled that mugger while you two were making heart eyes at each other,” The Siam Prince said with a smile that was way too energetic for this hour. “You can thank me for saving your life now.”

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” Viktor said, extending his hand. Any friend of Yuuri’s was worth knowing. Maybe he could tell him more about Yuuri if he asked nicely but Viktor took the idea back, he didn’t want to look too desperate. 

“Phichit Chulanont at your service,” He said, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “I would bow but if I did I’d most likely wake Celestino up.”  
“Oh my, not Celestino.” Viktor gasped sarcastically earning a chuckled from Phichit. 

“Oh yes, what would he think if he caught us fraternizing? I'm supposed to be studying.” Phichit said with the same tone as he took a bit of cheese and dropped it into his pocket. Viktor swore he heard a squeak. “But I suppose the reason you’re out of bed this late at night isn’t that you want to take a late night stroll.” He said, flashing Viktor a knowing smirk. “Looking for a certain bespeckled night owl, your highness?” 

“Maybe.” Viktor hummed as he saw a small furry head poke out of the pocket of Phichits robe. “Or maybe I can’t sleep? Who knows.” 

“Sure, your highness.” He rolled his eyes, walking past Viktor towards the east wing of the manor. “I’ll skip the pleasantries and lead you to Yuuri’s room already. You can drop the act.” 

Viktor baulked visibly following the younger prince as he precariously balanced his food while taking a bite of some fruit. So that's where Yuuri got his honesty from, he made a note of that. “What about Ce--?!”

“Don’t worry about it!” Phichit said through a mouthful of apple and grape, he looked like a hamster. “What’s he gonna do? Kick you out?” 

“Isn’t he upset about Yuuri’s correspondence with me?” Viktor asked, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Yakov and Yuri reaction to him writing to Yuuri was what some would call frigid, god only knew how his parents would react to it. Mila, even though she meant well, encouraged Viktor but he had his suspicions to why. Most people, if they knew, would gladly cut Yuuri off from Viktor and divert his attention ‘matters’ that were supposedly worth his time. “I could hurt him.” 

Phichit stopped, the aura of warmth around his had suddenly fallen away as he turned sharply on his heels as stared at Viktor with eyes that glinted dangerously in the between the pale light of the moon and the dull light of the lamps. 

“Your Highness,” He said, formal and lacking in kindness. “If you ever hurt Yuuri, I swear to you that you will find yourself facing enemies far across in the East as well as the West.” Viktor almost took a step back from the shorter man. Almost. “But I know that you won’t because you care for him just as he cares for you.”  
Viktor could only stare. So this is what it felt having the truth laid out in front of you with no lies to obscure it. He knew. Of course, he knew. But it felt so unnatural when someone else could look at Viktor and instantly tell that he was falling like a shooting star. His mask that did its job for so long was starting to falter whenever the topic of Yuuri came it, it left a split right down the centre into his soul. The only person who ever caught a glimpse of how lonely and pathetic the Viktor Nikiforov was Yuuri and that was when Viktor was at his lowest when he wanted someone to grab his mask and throw it on the ground, shattering it into pieces. Yuuri had reached, a little hesitant at first, he didn’t yank the mask off but instead, he pried it off little by little, discovering who Viktor truly was and Viktor, with all his plans of grandeur and cunning, didn’t see it till Yuuri cradled his heart in his hands without realizing it. 

He only hoped that he wouldn’t drop it. Yuuri wasn’t the only one with a fragile heart. 

“Oh, don’t give me that look!” Phichit said, drawing Viktor out of his thoughts. What expression had even been making, he zoned out for a few seconds. “I saw that look between you. I think anybody can tell that you would do anything for Yuuri.” 

“And how can I deny that?” He took too many liberties tonight, allowing that mask to slip. If he did something like that back home the vultures around him would swoop down. 

“You can’t.” 

Viktor memorized the route they took, committing it to memory. He didn’t want to get lost again. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends,” Phichit said. 

“About Yuuri.” He started. “Our correspondence has been wonderful and I enjoy writing to him immensely but…..” Viktor bit his lip. He adored Yuuri, that was certain but there was definitely something he was hiding. But Viktor couldn’t bring himself to ask when they were at such an early phase of their relationship but perhaps maybe, just maybe, this person could give him answers.

“But?”

“Is Yuuri hiding something from me?” 

“And what would make you think that?”

“I….I don’t know.” He didn’t like this feeling of uneasiness that crept up his spine like a spider gliding across it’s net. “But I feel like he’s scared to tell me. Does he think I’ll judge him? Because I’d never do something like that.” 

Phichit smiled. “I’m not at liberty to tell you anything about Yuuri but I can give you some advice.” 

“That’s better than nothing,” Viktor remarked. 

“Yuuri will tell you in his own time,” He said. “Yuuri isn’t scared of you, it’s a whole lot of circumstances that just contribute to his fears. There are some things that Yuuri lives in constant fear of and sometimes that gets in the way but don’t get discouraged. He likes you a lot, by the way, it just takes time for him to get his ass out of his head and actually see.” He smirked, stopping in front of a door at the end of a hallway painted a soft blue with silver outlining the designs that had been carved onto its surface. He could pick up the faint smell of mint and freshly brewed tea that beckoned him closer like a witches spell. “You have a few minutes till his birthday ends. Still, think that you can make his night?” 

 

Yuuri rubbed his eyes, rereading the letter his mother had sent him. The freshly dried tears stuck to his face, dried salt crystals glittered in the place of his woes. He always cried when he received something from home, it stirred inside of him and bled out of his soul with an unyielding force that shoved tears from his eyes and tony, hiccuping sobs from his throat. It wasn’t a pretty sight; Yuuri hunched over a letter with glob like tears pouring from his eyes like a faucet as his face twisted up. 

Home. 

He just wanted to go home already. 

But he couldn't. Not yet, he just turned twenty-three and he was still waiting for his results. The start of his twenty-third year heralded the beginning of his end, this was the year he was supposed to meet his soulmate and when he reached next November, he would most likely be dead. 

Yuuri didn’t want to die. 

Gods, he wasn’t ready to die. 

He had so much to live for. He was so young and he had so much that he wanted to do; he wanted to travel and dance and fall in love and have a life! He wanted to grow till he was old and grey, surrounded by grandchildren. He wanted to write his book and practice in Helvetia, he wanted to discover and learn and write and read and teach! He wanted to go home, no soulmate or cryptic prophecy following him; he wanted to hug his mother, he wanted to go hunting with his father, he wanted to be there Mari ascended the throne, he wanted to dance with Minako and visit the sea with the Nishigori’s. 

He wanted all of it so, so much. 

His heart just refused to let Yuuri give up every time his mind told him it wasn’t possible. 

Yuuri laid his head on the desk welcoming the cold cold surface against his flushed skin as the vines of the money plant twirled themselves around his shoulders comforting him. The scent of mint flooded the room, he could sense how it wanted to console him. All the flowers in the room turned their petals towards him, each one silently supporting him as tears fell once again from his eyes silently. 

His mother had taken a risk, she has seen the witch that gave Yuuri his prophecy and the results….well, they weren’t good. 

Yuuri’s fate had not changed since the day of his birth, he had received the letter with the bad news only several weeks before when summer had given way to early autumn. That letter was followed by several other letters from his family, each one had said the same thing: Come home. Yuuri had pushed the letters to the side, burying them under his notes before travelling to Helvetia for his exams. He had come back just last week after a gruelling set of exams which had set his nerves on edge and a pit of anxiety raging in his stomach to find a new letter on his desk. It was neither from Viktor or the Embassy, it was from Minako who didn’t even bother to sign her name on the front; she only placed a seal with a black ribbon--the sign that she was royally and utterly pissed. 

He had opened the letter with shaky hands. The words on the cream coloured page stared back at Yuuri with blood red ink which gathered at the centre, the words blurred together and rearranged themselves till he saw Minako’s face staring at him. Yuuri had yelped and nearly thrown the letter across the room. 

“Yuuri-hito Katsuki!” Minako’s face growled in his native language, the red making her look like a raging demon. Nobody ever used his full name unless either Yuuri was at a formal ceremony or he had done something incredibly stupid, he betted the latter. “You haven’t said anything in past week, we’re worried sick about you. We’d appreciate if you would write once in a while to say your alive.” She sighed heavily, her face turning wistful. “ Look, I know that you probably aren’t in a good mood right now, but Yuuri, this is your family and you’re so far away---we miss you, kiddo. Your parents have even asked me to come and retrieve you but I was able to make sure they didn’t send a battalion of troops over. The last thing either of us needs is to offend any foreign leaders because we didn’t announce the fact that you were there for the past few years. If you ever feel unsafe, you tell the embassy and they’ll put you on an airship immediately. This next year is gonna be tough on you, Yuuri but I have a good feeling that you’ll be able to handle it. I’ve sent a separate letter to the Count on increasing security, he’ll most likely discuss the details with you later on. I’m running out of room on this paper so I’ll end it here, spells like this are rare and difficult. Write back soon, Yuuri.” 

Minako’s face had then dissolved on the paper, the red ink scattering across the page and landing all over, making it unreadable. Yuuri sat in front of his desk for several minutes, blinking his eyes like an owl before shaking his head and going to bed. 

The same letter was placed under the letters his parents had written. The inkwell had nearly run dry as the crumpled pieces of paper littered the dustbin and the wooden floor. He didn’t know what to write to his parents. 

What was he supposed to say; Dear Mother and Father, I’m terrified that my soulmate is going to kill me and I may or may not be falling for a someone who I’ve made a fool of myself during dinner. The food is good, Phichit says hello and I an anxious mess. How’s Vicchan? Send my love to Mari. Yuuri groaned in disgust, tilting his head back as he used the heel of his palms to rub his eyes of sleep. What could he possibly write to his parents without sounding like a complete and utter lunatic? 

And then there was the matter of Viktor. 

Ah, Viktor. How was it possible to say so much and so little at the same time about one person? Viktor was an unyielding assault on the armour around Yuuri’s heart, it was so hard to push his out---Yuuri could only let him in and sit and watch as Viktor treated him like he was a precious gem rather than a clump of dirt.  
For the past year, he had assumed that Viktor only continued to speak with him because Yuuri was something of a passing fancy to him, someone that could hold his attention for a moment before something shiny and new came along for his to divert his attention. It was one of the reasons that Yuuri kept holding back---or at least trying to. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t immune to Viktor and his charms and his smile and his laugh and his eyes. He still couldn’t believe that he had made Viktor flustered at dinner (or maybe he was embarrassed by you, the treacherous part of his mind spoke. He ignored that part of his mind)

Yuuri liked it when Viktor danced with him, his body slotted perfectly against his taller frame as the way across the marble floors. He liked it when Viktor entwined their fingers together, and he liked it when Viktor whispered secrets into his ear that he wouldn’t tell anybody else. 

He enjoyed his presence. It was all so simple. Why was he making it so complicated? 

Could Viktor ever feel anything towards Viktor? Everyone around him said yes, and Yuuri, with his mind that constantly doubted every move he made, wanted to say no. 

He suppressed another groan as someone knocked on his door, three more clear knocks sounded throughout the room while Yuuri sat in his chair staring up at the ceiling. It must have been Phichit with his midnight snacks that he took the liberty to deliver to those who didn’t sleep, such as Yuuri. Who else would be this impatient? Murmuring underneath his breath, he got up stepping across the room and grabbed the door handle, unlocking it before swinging it open.   
All Yuuri saw was a pale flash, a streak of silver and blue as someone crashing into him sending the both of him towards the ground. One arm was wrapped around his head, cushioning their landing as Yuuri looked up at the ceiling with shock and confusion. He blinked his confusion away, his eyes narrowing as he reached for the knife hidden away in the cuff of his shirt. 

“Yuuuuuuri!” The person cooed and Yuuri’s hand stilled, the orange light of the fireplace reflecting off the small blade that Yuuri had positing above his heart. He turned his head, recognizing the smell of winter as Viktor’s stared back him, his face moonlike. 

“V-V-Viktor!” Yuuri stuttered, his ears turning red. “What are you—How are you—?! He saw Phichit leaning against the door frame cradling a large amount of food in his arms as he flashed him a knowing smirk before grabbing the door handle. ‘Happy Birthday,’ he mouthed and then promptly closed the door silently, leaving Viktor and Yuuri alone. 

Yuuri felt his heart hammering in his chest loudly, every beat gushed past his ears as Viktor gave him his infamous heart-shaped smile. “Happy Birthday, solnyshko!” Viktor exclaimed as he lifted himself up, nearly impaling himself on the blade Yuuri still held to his back. He folded the blade back into the cuff of his shirt, somehow managing not to drop it in his frazzled state. 

Viktor hovered above Yuuri who starred with his mouth open and his eyes blinking rapidly, he lifted a pale hand with slender fingers combing through the ink-black strands. There was that look again like Yuuri was some sort of deity or a precious diamond. It spoke volumes while confirming nothing outright, Viktor looked so at peace as he stared down at Yuuri and Yuuri, he considered what it would feel like to kiss him. He was so close. So very close. He would only have to crane his head and press his lips against Viktors to know what it would feel like but instead, he found himself leaning into his touch. Yuuri couldn’t help it, Viktor was like the earth and Yuuri was like the moon; they orbited each other, pulling each other in with their presence. 

Whatever flimsy rules Yuuri had come up with didn't last very long. 

“Thank you, Viktor,” Yuuri said with a smile, his eyes softening. As much as he wanted to stay in this position, it couldn’t have been easy for Viktor. His arm must’ve started to fall asleep for it was pinned between the plush carpet and Yuuri’s head. “It’s wonderful to see you again but can you get off of me?” 

“Yuuuuuuri.” He gave him the look of a kicked puppy, and Yuuri’s eyes were immediacy drawn to his pouting lips. They just looked so kissable and Yuuri started to doubt his resolve. “Sorry, Yuuri. I was just so excited to see you that I couldn’t help myself.” 

Viktor pulled away, drawing his hand out of Yuuri’s hair. Without the weight of Viktor holding him down, Yuuri sat up, sitting cross-legged in front of Viktor. “I’m sorry I ruined your birthday dinner,” Viktor said apologetically. “I felt awful about it.” 

“Don’t be,” Yuuri giggled. His hands were placed in his lap as his eyes crinkled with silent laughter. “Besides, I’ve already told you that you made my night.”   
“And that you did, solnyshko.”

“I’m sorry that I made you flustered, you must have been embarrassed,” Yuuri said, “Sometimes I forget myself.” 

“Oh, Yuuri. No, no, no!” Viktor leaned forward, slotting the palm of his hand against the side his face affectionately. “I wasn’t embarrassed at all, zolste. Matter in fact, I was very flattered. My My, Yuuri. You’ve become so bold.” 

And just like that Yuuri realized that Yuuri realized how much trouble his heart was in. 

“Are you sure you're not saying that just to make me feel better?” 

“I’d never lie to you, Yuuri. You’re too important to me to lie to,” Viktor said, leaning in so that their foreheads touched. “You look adorable when you pout, by the way.” 

“Flatterer,” Yuuri said, his lips curling into a shy smile. 

“You’re the one to speak.” 

And there it was. The ease of being together. Yuuri cherished these moments: letters could only say so much, a non-verbal conversation that hid behind words and phrases and carefully constructed paragraphs. It was moments when Yuuri faced Viktor, no polite or fake mask in the way, only his adorable heart-shaped smile and his ever-expressive blue eyes. The way that Viktor stared at him now basked in the amber glow of the fireplace set his heart on fire which burned through his thoughts and boiled underneath his skin. 

_Love_. 

That was the first word that popped into his mind, although it was presented more as a question than a statement. 

He was actually thinking of something like love. Something that he once had considered impossible for him to achieve, something that would only hinder him in his journey. A weakness to be exploited and a lonely mind to fill. 

Whatever he felt right now, it could very well be the building blocks of what he would one-day call love but for now, in this room where the world was blocked out, Yuuri only felt content and light. 

Viktor felt warm, his breath fanning pleasantly across his face as he stared back into his eyes with a smile. 

If Yuuri could stare into those deep pools of blue forever, he would. They held such rich emotion that was hidden away by the many faces Viktor wore but today, Yuuri could see his feelings reflected so clearly that he thought himself an idiot for doubting Viktor. But he could also see something else——secrets. And they swirled and bubbles up to the surface before being pushed back down again, just a quick little flash and it was gone. What battle was Viktor fighting now? It was moments like these Yuuri wished his was abilities were telepathic based instead of elemental. 

“Victor,” Yuuri said reaching out and holding his head in he hands, his thumbs rubbing circles on his temples in a soothing manner. “What is it? Are you ok---”   
His eyes churned with emotions and then the tears welled up in his eyes, the drops hit the floor with little taps before sinking into the wool fibres. More tears followed and Yuuri felt his heartbreak as Viktor smiled bittersweetly through the tears. The expression only broke his heart further.

“Ah, Yuuri,” Viktor said, bowing his head. He leaned forward, pressing his face against the crook seeking comfort. “What am I doing? I’m so sorry.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri said softly. He slid his fingers into his hair, keeping Viktor close as he rubbed soothing circles on his back. Warm tears soaked through the material of his shirt, they sat in front of the fireplace basking in the amber glow as Viktor’s warmed breaths muffled by his collarbone while Yuuri said nothing and just held him in his arms.

Viktor didn’t look at him, he hides away in the safety of his arms. 

Maybe it was because Viktor was an ugly crier but Yuuri shook his head at the thought, Viktor could never look ugly, his face was made of moonlight and marble.

Maybe it was because he didn’t want Yuuri to see him in this state. Yuuri could understand, he often prefered to hide when he fell apart. (The only person who he trusted to see him during those times was Phichit.) 

Or maybe, Viktor was human too and he was at his breaking point. 

Viktor had once told him that his mask kept other safe, that it allowed him to do what needed to be down without others to get in the way. It must’ve been a terrible way to live, to never allow yourself to show your emotions or to feel. 

He needed this and so, Yuuri let him cry. 

That was something that Yuuri had never seen or expected. Viktor was supposed to be the confident one, the one who had his priorities together and always smiled through the pain. He covered his weaknesses and turned them into strengths, he rooted himself like a tree and faced whatever dared challenge him. 

Viktor was everything Yuuri wanted to be one day. However, Yuuri had learned to not put Viktor on top of a pedestal. He all but shoved Viktor off the pedestal when they first met and he shattered whatever image of Viktor the press had built up when he sent his first letter to him. Yuuri could only see but not touch for Viktor was a god compared to a mere mortal like him. He turned away from that type of thinking. Marble turned to fine and powdery dust, moonlight giving way to the brightest heart and soul Yuuri had even seen; kindness, love, and loneliness were what made up Viktor’s very core. It only made the guilt that Yuuri housed in his heart even worse considering how he told Viktor nothing about himself; where he really was from, who his parents were, and the morbid prophecy that followed him around. 

Viktor had been nothing but honest with Yuuri. And Yuuri, what did he do to repay Viktor for his trust and honesty?   
Nothing. 

Yuuri wanted to stare Viktor in the eye and spill his heart out, he hated the weight that settled on his chest like anchors. 

“I’m ruining your birthday,” Viktor whispered. “I’m sorry, Yuuri. I just….these last few days have been so----” He made a frustrated sound and peeked up at Yuuri through silver lashes, his eyes simmering with frustration. “I shouldn’t bother you like this and I--”

Yuuri reached out, pulling his fingers away from the soft strands of starlight. He placed his finger against his lips, silencing him. Instead, he stood up, walking across the room and grabbing the small blanket that hung off the post of his bed before returning to Viktor. He draped the blanket around his shoulders before sitting down next to him, Yuuri guided his head back to his shoulder, his fingers tangling themselves once more in his hair as his nails scraped across Viktors scalp gently, lulling him to breathe. They breathed in sync, inhaling mint and the smell of burnt wood as Yuuri guided Viktor out of his current state of mind. When Viktors silent sobs settled to sniffles did Yuuri spoke. 

"Is it your cousin?" He asked. 

"Yes." Viktor reached up, pulling Yuuri's hand away from his head. He entwined their hands, drawing shapes on the back of Yuuri's hand. "I failed him, Yuuri. He hates me so much." 

"I think he's just angry with you," Yuuri said, pulling the blanket closer around them. "It's a sudden change, his whole life changed within a day and he didn't have a say in the matter, Viktor--"

"I know." He said. "I know. I just wish I knew how to fix it."

"Talk to him?"

"How?"

"Go to him," He said squeezing his hand gently. "He's your cousin, explain it to him even if it hurts. You have to tell him why you made this decision. The further you let the gap between the harder it will be to reconcile."

"He's a hellcat, you know? Yura threw a vase at my head the first time I tried to talk to him," Viktor smiled at that memory, finding it funny even though at the time he felt terrified of his cousin. "I'm so sorry, Yuuri. This wasn't how I wanted to spend your birthday." 

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Yuuri said. “You’re allowed to cry and you're allowed to speak your mind. It doesn't matter if it's my birthday, I'd rather hear about what bothers you than celebrate."

Viktor closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath in and releasing it before looking up at Yuuri. He placed his hand on his face, gently cupping Yuuri’s cheek as he gave him a half-hearted smile. “What did I do to deserve someone like you? You're too kind, Yuuri.”

Funny, Yuuri thought as he leaned into Viktors touch, I was thinking the same thing 

Instead, Yuuri said, “Something wonderful.” 

To which Viktor responded with an honest to god giggle. He wrapped himself around Yuuri pulling him closer and holding him to his chest. His heart-shaped smile lit up Yuuri's world, glowing brighter than the fore that burned before them, he still had tears running down his face, but at least Yuuri managed to make him smile again. They sat there on the floor covered by a thin blanket as the glow of the fireplace covered them in amber and ochre. Yuuri looked down at Viktor, his eyes focused on him, the radiance of the fire turning them a brilliant aquamarine. 

“I have a present for you," He said. 

“Viktor, you didn’t have to.” 

“Nonsense!” Viktor exclaimed as he fished around in the pocket of his night robe. “I’ve been waiting to show you for months!” 

He pushed the small black box towards him eagerly. Yuuri took it, gently pulling the lid of the box before peering inside. A single crystal laid in the red velvet, it was tiny only the size of his thumb. Its facets shimmered in the dim light. It was beautiful, clear-cut and pristine. It felt too pure for him to touch. “Oh, Viktor,” Yuuri found it hard to breath feeling his eyes sting with the threat of tears. He didn’t deserve something so beautiful. 

“Yuuri?” Viktor said as a fresh wave of tears cascaded down his face. “Solnyshko? What’s wrong? Do you not like my gift?”

“No, no,” Yuuri said, feeling too much. He didn’t know why but it just did. Viktor brushed his tears away with his thumb as he waited for Yuuri to finish speaking. “It’s just---Viktor. It’s so…. Beautiful. I don’t deserve something like this.” 

“Of course you do!” Yuuri wanted to so desperately believe that. “Just wait, let me show you so you’ll understand!” Viktor plucked the beautiful crystal out of the box and placed it into the palm of his hand. He lifted it to his lips, murmuring in a language Yuuri didn’t recognize. The skin of his palm glowed a cool shade of blue that bled up into the crystal, turning what used to be translucent into a milky hue. The crystal seemed to melt and morph in Viktors hand, rearranging itself with a bright blue glow that made Viktor's eyes look like blazing embers. When the light had subsided, a single crystalline rose lay at the centre of Viktor’s hand. Yuuri looked up with a sense of reverence, his heart feeling light as a cloud.

He had sent Viktor a single rose for his birthday, he charmed it with a spell that would keep it fresh and living for years to come. At the time Yuuri had thought that his time with Viktor was coming to an end, with a sliver of hope in his heart he had sent Viktor a single lavender rose so that one day when Viktor looked at the still living rose, he would remember Yuuri. He knew that lavender roses were extremely rare, even more, rare than blue roses. The true meaning of the flower he didn't learn until much later. 

Yuuri thought that the present wouldn’t mean anything to but as Viktor held out a rose to him, he wondered that maybe--just maybe--that he didn't have to hope for anything anymore. 

“A rose for a rose,” Viktor said, presenting the crystal to Yuuri. “Happy Birthday, Yuuri.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so this took me a while to write. I lost motivation halfway through but I decided that I was way more determined to finish this fic. I hope you guys liked it, please don't hesitate to leave a comment on what you think or leave a kudos!  
> If you're confused about anything, hmu on my Tumblr or just ask me in the comments.   
> I have the next chapter done but I need to heavily edit it. I will probably post that next week so don't worry.   
> So I'm just going to leave this here, enjoy!


	12. Aconite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aconite -- Hatred, Be Cautious

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” Yuri growled. He sat slouched and uncaring, no longer a prince for the public eye but a bored boy stuck in first class.  
He was swathed in blankets to keep out the autumn chill that leaked through the drafts as the train sped by Calabrian countryside. His nose was red and shiny, he felt as miserable as he looked but at least he was alive. Several days of bed rest did him some good but there was something else simmering in him: his anger, mostly for Viktor but for everything else as well. 

“I know.”

“And you can be a selfish bastard sometimes too.” 

“I….I know.” 

“Sometimes you forget how your actions affect others too.” 

“I know, Yura’

“Also, you’re impulsive and reckless.’ 

Viktor snorted, it was dry and humourless. Of all people to call him impulsive and reckless, Yuri didn’t have the right. He didn’t blame him cousin for wanting to run away but he was a bit disappointed in himself for letting it happen. 

“I mean you could’ve asked me if I wanted this or not,” He said. Yuri eyes had turned intense, sharp and cutting like sharpened steel but there was still a boyish sense of sadness that lingered in them. Yuri was more transparent with his feelings, through the thorny layer of anger and animosity you could see him. “Goddamnit, Vitya, I might have said yes if you had just asked?”

“I….” Viktor hesitated. There was a flicker or slight tentativeness that vanished quickly. “I know,” He said instead. 

The answer only enraged Yuri further. He was sick and he was already fired up; why not just keep going? Small tiny blue flames flickered at the end of his fingertip and the ends of his hair, just a small hint towards the scorching inferno that threatened to tear Yuri apart at the seams. It was almost like he was just itching for a fight. Viktor knew better. The temperature dropped significantly, cold spreading from hi, and coating the window with a thin layer of frost that danced across the glassy surface like ice fairies in a play he saw once as a boy. It was a silent warning. 

Yuri didn’t back down. 

Heat met cold, frost melted off the windows in rivulets of silver drops which stained the carpet below their feet and mini flames that hopped off Yuri’s body like little fireflies were extinguished like candles with a defiant hiss. The cabin was simultaneously cold and warm, making the air uncomfortable as the tension grew like a rainstorm in the middle of a hot and humid summer. 

“Are you done moping?” He hissed. “Or are you going to own up to it?” 

“And what is that suppose to mean?” Viktor asked sharply. There was still ice on his side of the cabin.

Yuri huffed in frustration, rolling his eyes. Sometimes he just wanted to wring his neck. With a quick flick of his hand the flames that he summoned disappeared as he looked Viktor in the eye. “We both know that this isn’t just my whole fault, Viktor. I shouldn’t have run away. Yeah, I’ll agree that was stupid (and irresponsible of me) but it was completely heartless of you to do that to me. Did you even think how much I hated my own coronation?”

“You’re right,” Viktor said, running his gloved hand through his hair in frustration and remorse. The ice dissipated slowly as Viktor accepted the silent olive branch that Yuri extended. “I fucked up.” 

“Damn right you did.” 

“I’m sorry,” He rasped. He lifted his hand, covering his eyes. He felt so tired and every word that Yuri had muttered was true, he didn’t have any excuses. Only himself. “I fucked up and I failed you, Yura.” 

Yuri didn’t say anything. Viktor wasn’t sure if he was basking in the moment or waiting for him to finish. He continued anyway. 

“I promised to look after you, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when you needed it. I didn’t know and I didn’t understand how much you were hurting until it was too late.” Viktor’s bowed his head. Silently asking for forgiveness he felt like he didn’t deserve. “But there’s no going back and I think you know that.”

“I do,” Yuri said, he sighed and played with the edges of his blanket that had come slightly undone. “Viktor, I don’t hate you. I mean, I pissed at you but you’re still family. I suppose this was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“But--”

“Yeah, Viktor. I figured this would happen when I was older, just not…..now.” On other days he would gloat for making his cousin speechless but for today, he kept going because that was all he could really do. “To be honest, I’m just pissed that you didn’t ask me like a sane person would do. Sure, I wasn’t that happy about being the future heir to the throne or whatever but you know, that’s life. It sucks ass and I can’t do anything about it so---Oh, would you stop looking like a kicked puppy?!” 

Viktor snapped his head up, Yuri glared down at him. 

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” And Yuri let out a sound of disgust. He shook his head, wondering how long he was stuck in this carriage for. “What the fuck do you think, dumbass?” 

Viktor let out a sigh of relief, sinking into the slightly damp cushions of his seat, posture and poise be damned as he felt like he was going to cry from happiness alone. He wasn’t going to lose his cousin, he wasn’t going to lose Yura. 

“Thank you,” He said, his voice strained. “Thank you, Yura.” 

“God, Vitya! You’re not gonna cry, are you?” 

Viktor laughed, pure and blissful. He had cried in Yuuri’s arms, feeling a sense of hollowness that he hated. There was this weight that laid on his chest like a brick, refusing to move, nearly crushing his ribs and stealing the breath away from his lungs. 

Perhaps there was some good from Yuri running away after all. 

“Hey, Viktor.” 

“Yes, Yura?”

“About Katsuki---”

“Yes?” He stood up straight at the mention of Yuuri’s name. 

Yuri cursed silently. “He’s not at all what I expected.” 

“He has that effect on people,” Viktor chuckled.

“He’s soft. From the fight that you told me about, I expected him to be, I don’t know, a little bit more intimidating.” He said, surprised. “Don’t fuck this up.”

“I don’t think I could bear to mess this up,” Viktor said with a smile. 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. Have you told him yet?”

“Told him what?” Viktor asked coyly. He knew damn well that Yuri had read the letter that Yuuri sent him. Oh god, he went a bit pale. Did he read how desperate he must have sounded or how much he was pining for the young dark-haired man? 

Another question had been nagging at Viktor for the past few days. How did Yuri get access to his things? He grimaced trying to remember if he locked his study or not before meeting with the princess. Yuuri had voiced his concerns about the security of how they corresponded but mostly for Viktor’s sake than his, Viktor didn’t want to think about it but his mind raced with all the possibilities of what would happen if somebody else besides Yuri was to sneak into his study.  
He had placed several important pieces of legislature in his draw, one, in particular, was far more important than the rest and Viktor knew that if it fell into the wrong hands, not only would there be a scandal for the press to lap up but it would call into question Viktor’s right to rule. There was unnatural chill that travelled up his spine that came neither from the drafts of the carriage or from him. 

“Viktor!” Yuri snapped his fingers in front of Viktor’s vacant expression. “Hey, your royal dumbass!” 

“Yura,” Viktor said, weighing his words carefully. All hint of his feeling of elation gone like a quick breeze. “When you stole the letter from my study, was it locked or unlocked?”

“Unlocked, I guess. There was maid cleaning but I can't remember.” Yuri said, pulling a coat closer to his body. The temperature seemed to lower as Viktor looked at him with a frustrated expression, his eyes hard as ice. “Why?”

“No reason.” He lied, internally he was about to melt. 

“Bullshit.”

“Yura--”

“Don’t Yura me, Viktor!” The younger boy growled. He may still be recovering from a fever and felt like utter shit but he was tired of Viktor, his own damn cousin, keeping secrets from him. They were family, weren’t they? And he was the Prince, wasn’t he? He had a right to know, and no amount of protest from Viktor’s lips could make him change his decision. “We just had this discussion. The reason we’re in this mess in the first place is that you didn’t tell me shit, it’s time you start telling me the truth--” Viktor opened his mouth, most likely to protest. Yuri silenced him with a snarl that could rival a dragon. “No, Viktor! You owe this to me and I’m not fucking asking--I’m demanding. And don’t you dare fucking start with the ‘you’re too young’ shit because I didn’t get a choice unlike you.”  
Viktor nodded. It was time, and he felt that if he kept these plans in his head for a single moment longer, he would explode. He was yet to tell Yuuri any of this, he had alluded to it very briefly in a passing sentence or two but never stated it outright. 

“What I am about to tell you is to never leave this cabin,” He leaned in closer to Yuri, lowering his voice. “Are you ready to turn the world on its head?”  
Yuri leaned forward, the blankets gathering around his shoulders. “What do you think?” 

“Good. Listen carefully, I’m not going to repeat this.” 

 

The Scarlet Fox was a bar which had an infamous reputation that began before King Antonovich. Prior to the disposal of the former King, the bar had been called Eros but when it fell on hard times, the bar was bought by a wealthy man who turned the tiny bar into a tea shop. That too fell on hard times but its dire circumstances wasn’t due to a hard economy, it was due to a man named Kazimir Volkov. 

Although others may know him by another name, it was simple but it carried a heavy meaning like the fog that lingered in this area of the capital during the fall season. Kazimir derived it from the name his father had given him when he was a young noble learning his trade; Volk. 

The Wolf.

There was a time before when he was a young nobleman. That time was a long time ago before his name had been smeared through the dirt and he had lost something precious in the rebellion that raged through the city before the current monarchs came into power. His father’s shadow had touched him from beyond the grave, no matter how much he hated the man in life he provided useful in death. 

His father was a dangerous man with connections that spread far and wide across the kingdom, the right-hand man to the late King with a mind of a snake. He had learned much from his father and inherited his fair share of the trait for which he had cultivated in the past twenty-four years.

Although Kazamir had never gained a seat next to the King, he was ruthless and clever enough to weasel his way into Parliament. It took years for him to sink his fangs into the sheep that commanded the Parliament floor, he and his pack of men ripped them to shreds as they slowly spread through the factions like poison and it was underneath the King and Queens nose. It only took a simple spell to alter his face and a change in his name for him to slip by, his father's connections proved useful even after the old man had croaked. 

No matter how hard he howled and no matter how many time he bared his teeth, the royal family had a staunch group of supporters whose loyalty could not be shaken. No bribe or promise of favour or temptation of flesh could sway them and Kazamir only steeled his resolve. 

The Crown Prince was clever, under the protection of Yakov Feltsman, he had out manoeuvred Kazamir every time he threw something at him. But no matter how fast the deer ran, the dull and stupid beast would make one fatal error which resulted in its life ending in the jaws of the wolf. The fatal error had been Prince Yuri of House Plisetsky, the house where the former Queen of Kievren had come from, the house which only had an old man with a bad back as it’s patriarch.

Appointing the young boy as Viktors heir had set the faction most loyal to him ablaze. Afterall, he was the son of the King who nearly ran this proud country into the ground. What was to guarantee that it would not happen when he would come to take the throne? 

Most thought the Crown Prince mad, Kazamir thought him to be practical but naive. He sat back, a smile hidden behind his goblet of wine as Yuri Plisetsky was crowned by Viktors hand. The King and Queen had invited the archbishop to precede over the ceremony. It wasn’t until one noble hopped up from his seat, unable to stand the atrocity that was being committed and shamelessly begged the Prince to reconsider. Other members had stood up as well, adding their ‘concerns’ to the verbal fray. It wasn’t till the Queen told them to sit down or get out, some nobles did get out while others looked on with heated gazes. The Crown Prince looked impassive as he continued on with the ceremony. Yuri, however, looked like frightened filly swathed in a fine cloak made of fur and a simple circlet decorating his blonde head. He narrowed his gaze on the young man, he had many plans for this one. All he had to do was wait for the Crown Prince to make one more mistake and soon his father's soul could be laid to rest. 

“Sir Volkov,” A young women, dressed in servants clothes looked so out of place in his par. Like a shit stain on red silk, he thought. She curtsied with practised ease, her eyes cast downwards. There was nothing demure about the way she refused to look at him, there was the slight tremble of her hands which fisted around the beige coloured skirts she wore and her breathing which was shallow, almost like she was afraid that he would pounce on her. 

She was afraid of him. 

Good. 

He smiled, forcing a kind look on his face. “Ah, my dear. Please, do sit down.” He gestured to the seat across from him. “What news have you brought to me today?”

The girl was barely in her twenties but in a small apartment on the outskirts of the city she housed two other children and a father who was never home, a little one would be on its way soon and with her meager salary, she could not support them. History would not remember her name or know the reason why she did it but that didn’t matter as she slid a pale envelope towards him, the edges are torn and a letter pressed and folded neatly inside. A single seal with a single named decorating its pale surface. 

He smiled, no warmth could be found in the curl of his lips.

“Yuuri. K.” He repeated, tasting how sweet the name tasted. “Yuuri, Yuuri. Who might you be?” 

“I was only able to grab one letter, Sir.” She said, guesting to the letter on the table. “I found it on the Crown Prince’s desk this morning,” The young maid explained as she folded her hands across her swollen belly, trying to act prim and proper. “I had to pick the lock to get into the study, there were no guards so I did.” She bit her lip, looking hesitantly at him. Her blue eyes looked uncertain. "However, the young Prince did find me there. I made an excuse for cleaning but he didn't seem to care."

“Is…..this what you required, Sir?”

The young prince was snooping around his cousins study? He noted that information for future use, it could prove useful. 

“Lyra, my dear,” Kazamir said, pocketing the envelope. His scout had been right and he had what he needed to set his plans into motion. He reached forward, clutching her calloused hand. The silver band around his finger glinted in the low light, but it felt usually heavy today for some reason. “You have done well.”  
He lifted a small pouch of gold coins from his coat, placing it in front of her. Kazamir saw the hint of greed that flashed in her eyes as she eyed the small black pouch like a hawk eyeing a mouse in a field. 

“It was a pleasure to do business, Sir.” She got down from the stool with much difficult, curtsying in a clumsy manner before tucking the pouch of gold coins away. When the woman waddled out of his bar, a pouch of gold tucked away in her ratty jacket, he called one of his men over.

Kazamir had hired this man out of the many privateer ships that coasted along the shores or the northern sea, admiring his handy work and his particular skill set. Just one of many in his small army that had spread across the capital, feeding him information and doing what he commanded to be done. They were useful until they were not. 

He had blood smeared onto his fingers, he practically bathed in it. Somedays he could feel it, but on days like this when the gods had sent his such a valuable gift, he remembered the reason for why he was doing this.

The Royals didn’t control everything, especially not him. Never him. 

“Follow the girl,” Kazamir whispered as his finger softly traced the named on the creamy piece of paper in his pocket. For something so light it carried its weight in gold and silver. “I don’t want any loose ends but leave the gold on the doorstep, let her family have it. It’ll feed them through the harsh winter that is to arrive.”


	13. Melianthus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melianthus (Honey-flower) - Love sweet and secret

Summer had come blissfully, its rains washing away the worries of the previous springs. Viktor missed the flowers that bloomed so beautifully in the garden, even more, he missed his Yuuri who was far more beautiful than any flower that the Queen planted.

Their correspondence progressed with ease, Viktor sending and receiving letters every other day. No matter how much he desired to outright ask Yuuri what troubled him, Viktor could not knock down the wall of ink and paper that Yuuri hid behind. It was there, it was solid and it taunted him and Viktor waited ever so patiently, anticipating for Yuuri to tell him.

If not in this letter then in the next perhaps. Viktor was a patient man, after all. But for how long he could remain patient, was the question.

Each letter from Yuuri never failed to make his face light up with a smile, every word that he wrote only pulled Viktor into the dangerous and blissful emotion of love. He no longer heeded what others thought; he just wanted to fall and he sincerely hoped that one day Yuuri would be there to catch him in his arms.

He felt like he had no control, something just pulled him towards Yuuri like he was the sun that he orbited

A treacherous part of his mind asked if maybe---- just _maybe_ \----if God had decided to smile down at Viktor for once, that perhaps, in some way or form, Yuuri could be his soulmate. He was in love but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t rational. He dismissed the thought promptly, not allowing himself to dream about it any further. His soulmate did not exist, and even if they did it didn’t matter anymore. He had his Yuuri and he would move mountains or tear down the sky itself if it meant that Yuuri could be by his side.

Viktor had spent the remainder of the spring just like that. His pining for Yuuri doubled tenfold, He patiently waited till he could see him again; managing slippery political slopes, avoiding the young ladies of nobility that his parents manoeuvred his way, and investigating.

He had found the door to his study unlocked when he had returned from the train station, nothing obvious had been taken but he could never be too not cautious. The piece of legislature he had been working on had been safe and sound, the lock to that had been unbroken but it was obvious that someone had gone through some of his documents in his cabinets. Several papers were pulled out, a tossed back in without a care and some of his belongings had been pushed aside, leaving trails of dust in their wake.

Whoever had been sent to search his room didn’t have steady hands and they didn’t bother to put anything back into place. If it was a thief then it would be possible that they saw an opportunity and took something they deemed worth value but nothing had been taken. It wasn’t a thief and it wasn’t Yuri either, so who could it possibly be?

He felt uneasy. There was more to this than he thought.

The only other person who knew of his little investigation was Yakov, he had been angry and Viktors foolishness but he still agreed to help him in the end.

Yura mentioned seeing a maid when he stole a letter from his study but couldn’t recall anything significant, only that she had brown hair and looked chubby. Mila had questioned several members of the household for a maid matching that description but neither of them knew anybody like that. It seemed his investigation had come to a halt but Viktor wasn’t ready to give up yet, there was something that he was missing---he just couldn’t see it.

“The weather seems more agreeable since the last time we met.” Sara’s voice spoke over the loud volume of his thoughts, pulling him back to reality.

Ah, yes. Tea time with the princess arranged by his parents. Viktor had nothing against the young women sitting across from him, she was easy to talk to and they had many things in common, he appreciated her company but he wished it didn’t have to be under such circumstances.

Princess Sara was one of the many foreign dignitaries that were visiting for the summer ball that his family hosted annually, the purpose was to extend an olive branch to several kingdoms but mainly people used it as an excuse to get drunk and do scandalous things. Thankfully her brother was absent but this also meant that Lilia was charged with chaperoning them. He could feel her glassy stare, most likely imploring him silently to not do anything rash.

As if he would. Sara was beautiful and intelligent and surprisingly kind but she wasn’t to be his.

Mila had shared a look with her as the young princess entered the garden and Viktor recognized it as it was the same look he gave Yuuri when he wasn’t looking, the soft and undeniable look of love that just couldn’t be hidden.

 _If only the world had been kinder_ , he thought with a sense of pity.

“I agree,” He said, shrugging his shoulders. “The summers are kind here, perfect for planting the crops for the autumn harvest. Perhaps I can interest you on a ride through the pastures?”

“Perhaps another time.” She declined, dabbing a handkerchief on his lips.

“Miss Crispino, you are aware that I have no intention of imposing myself on you. I know that you have given your heart away to someone else. I only offer friendship, nothing more that would make you so uncomfortable.”

“Oh? Are you now?” Her smile was coy with the slight tilt of her head. She looked like the picture of innocence but underneath that look was a very dangerous mind with the right qualities of a natural born leader.

“Yes,” Viktor stood his ground. He was a prince and a gentleman, Princess Sara would rather be spending time with someone else.

Afterall, her soulmate only stood a few paces away while Viktors was miles away.

“And you know of their station.” He nodded, glancing at Mila who stood several feet away with her hand on the hilt of her sword. Her back was straight and he eyes were narrowed, she was a good soldier but all soldiers knew that their loyalty didn’t lie with their heart. He hoped Mila knew that too. “I’ve heard rumours of your interest in somebody as well.” Viktor felt his blood run cold. “You have nothing to fear from me, Viktor. I understand, the Nobility Law is designed to ensure that people like us, Highborns and such, are to marry someone who is suitable to their position but really, let’s face it---we all know how archaic that law is. The only reason others think we should get married is that both of our countries are rich, powerful, and prosperous. It wouldn’t change anything and even if we did get married, we could not join our kingdoms due to the distance between them.”

The words were dangerous but Princess Sara brushed it off with a flick of her hair, unyielding. Love really did make a person stronger.

“You’d rather have a marriage based on love?”

“I’d rather have the have to Nobility Law done away with,” Sars said with a wrathful tone that could cut glass, her thumb pressed against the mark on her hand in frustration. “And then I would marry for love.” She sighed, forlorn. Sara lifted her eyes to Viktor, emotions raging in those violet eyes. “Let us be realistic though, Viktor. Only those born away from the confines of the life of a Highborn are allowed the freedom of loving who they want.”

“What if……” Viktor weighed his words carefully. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice so that Lilia couldn’t eavesdrop. “What if we were to get rid of the law?”

“Unless the other kingdoms are like Helvetia then I’d doubt it,” Sara snorted. Viktor remained silent with a flat look, only the tapping of his finger indicated that he was waiting for her answer. Her eyes widened, “Oh my god, you’re serious. _Viktor_ \----”

“I’m serious, I would need your help if we were to do away with the Nobility Law,” Viktor said, gravely. “I have the Queen of Helvetia on my side and with you, I’d have Calabria’s support.”

“Even if you did, what’s the guarantee it would work?” She glanced at Mila, her violets eyes turning soft before hardening to crystal when she stared into his eyes. “We have so much to lose. Would it be worth it?”

The garden suddenly seemed devoid of colour, there was nothing between them other than the slight breeze that whistled past them. Sara bit her lip, the confidence she carried so well drained from her shoulders as she gnawed on her thoughts. Viktor knew that Mila and Sara were in a similar situation as him, he could use that to his advantage.

“I don’t know, Sara,” Viktor said, sitting back in his seat. “I’m not going to pressure you, I want this to be your choice but ask yourself before you give me an answer: Is Mila _worth_ it?”

 

 

Mila sat the sidelines of the ball, her medals glinting due to the champagne lights of the chandelier. Her back was straight as a board, the result of years and years of training by Lady Lilia. She looked regal, she looked like she belonged in this room of nobles and foreign dignitaries---Mila had crawled her way from the cold wastes of a distant snowy village to the Captain of the Palace Guard. She was the youngest Captain to ever hold the position and she was damn proud of it, she had sacrificed too much to make it here. Many in the room knew of her exploits; she had once saved the Queen from being assassinated when she was sixteen and aided in several missions given to her by the king and put down countless rebellions. Her accomplishments had yielded several medals which now proudly hung off her uniform as well as the trust of the royal family that she could not bear to break. Mila was the perfect soldier, with an iron will and hardy resolve, she could do almost anything that was given to her.

The swaths of richly coloured and glittering crowds parted when she made her way through the crowd behind Viktor, they had her eyes on the distinct gold and black rapier that always hung from her hip as well as the pistol strapped to her thigh.

Several of her soldiers lined the walls, their rifles locked and loaded. The men (and women) in her command were patrolling the palace, ensuring the protection of the guests here. She had drilled these men (and women) mercilessly into shape, ensuring that the rifles that they carried were not just for show and that they could hold their ground in a fight---they were strong and dangerous and loyal to the crown. She had absolute faith in them to protect the royal family in her absence.

“Do you ever get tired of waiting?” Viktor had asked her sometime during the middle of the ball, he kept glancing at the entrance of the grand ballroom. Mila rolled her eyes. He was too transparent with his feelings sometimes, especially when he was anxious or stressed. He reeked of it. Viktor shuffled from foot to foot in a very unprincely manner as he waited for her answer, like a horse anxious to bolt. “I certainly do, Mila.”

“I’m sure Mr. Katsuki will be happy to see you as well, Your Highness.” She noted silently, observing the pink that tinged his ears. A cheeky smirk made its way to her face. “He’s most likely trying to be fashionably late.”

“Is Viktor acting like a puppy waiting for his master?” A rich deep voice asked, their words tainted by the taste of champagne and mischievousness. Christophe Giacometti gave her a knowing wink before sling his arm over Viktor’s shoulder so nonchalantly, his husband merely rolled his eyes in the distance before continuing his conversation with a fellow scientist. “I assure you that it will never get old.”

“Lord Giacometti,” Mila greeted, bowing with her back straight.

“Captain Babicheva.”

“Noone to dance with?” He asked. “I could lend you my husband, he’s a wonderful dancer.”

“I appreciate the offer but I’m in charge of His Highness’s safety tonight,” She said, her eyes trained on Viktor who looked completely unapologetic. “I’m afraid even if anyone was to ask me, I would not be able to entertain a dance.”

“That’s just a pity. Look what you’ve done, Vitya.” Viktor rolled his eyes before downing his champagne glass with a quick tilt of his head. Christophe only laughed, pulling away from Viktor and turning towards Mila. “Princess Sara Crispino looks bored in the corner, perhaps she’s waiting for a dashing officer to sweep her off her feet?” He suggested.

Sara was indeed waiting for Mila, her eyes focused on her. She was dressed in dark blue, the billowy sleeves of her dress were a shade of sapphire organza that gathered to a close at her wrists mimicking a the flitter of a butterfly's wing when she moved. The bodice hugged to her willowy figure, the silver crystals dancing underneath the fine layer of sapphire organza. Sara was easily the most exquisite creature to grace her life and there was waiting. She tilted her head back, strands of midnight brushing across the nape of her neck and her lips curled into a coquettish smile that had Mila’s heart leaping across the room.

She was asking, in the most silent of ways, for Mila to dance with her and Mila felt her heart constrict painfully as she found herself in the position to refuse. Christophe followed the line of her sight that ended with the dark-haired beauty on the other side of the room. He sighed deeply, exchanging a look with Viktor that bordered on exasperation and disbelief.

“She’s a Princess,” Mila stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And?” He implored. 

“It would be improper.”

“It wasn’t improper when you danced with her the two previous times.” Mila reddened. The first time she had danced with Sara was during Viktor’s ball, Sara was the one to ask her for a dance and Mila had been unable to say no. The second time was at the Helvetia Spring Ball, Mila had indulged in alcohol and naturally, she was drawn towards Sara. The Princess had danced with her and by the time the clock struck midnight, she had found herself whisked away from the ballroom and into the arms of a princess for a blessed night.

And she hadn’t looked back since.

He held his hand up to his cheek, using his other hand to cushion his elbow as he looked off into the distance. “If you enjoy dancing with her so much why don’t you go and ask her? Clearly, the rules of society haven’t stopped you before, I don’t think that they would stop you now..”

“Why are you so keen on sending me away?” She narrowed her eyes, naturally suspicious of the Giacometti heir.

He chuckled, not put off by her demeanour. “I think you deserve time to yourself. Viktor tells me that you work too hard.” He said simply. “And also, I’d like to spend some time with my friend. Now shoo. Go have fun with your Princess, she’s been waiting for hours. It’s best not to let her down.”

He pulled Viktor into the crowds, leaving Mila alone surrounded by diamonds and silk. She returned her eyes to Sara, who had her back to her. The dress plunged deep, showing off the soft lines of her vertebrae and her shoulder blade. Mila felt her mouth go dry at the sight, as she craved the soft feeling of her sun-kissed skin. Perhaps, Lord Giacometti was right.

Their time together was so limited after all, Mila wanted to remember Sara when she was a colourful memory. She would have to spend every waking moment in her presence to make the most of it. No matter how much she prayed, there was no way that a princess and a person like her could be together, even if they were soulmates, others had decided their place in life with or without them.

The heavy beat of her boots echoed on the marvel floor as she cut through the dancing bodies and filtering skirts that brushed across her calves. She cleared her throat as she stood behind Sara, her heart bruising the inside of her chest as it hammered loudly when she held out her hand. Sara turned around, her lips parted in surprise.

Sara then smiled, giving her hand freely with a smile before Mila whiskered her away.

No words needed to be said between them as the music took over and drowned out everything else.

 

 

Yuuri felt as if he was being choked by the cravat around his neck with each deep breath he took to calm himself. He trailed behind Otabek and Phichit who were locking a serious debate about photography, Yuuri had only been able to follow their conversation briefly before he lost focus, his thoughts diverting unsurprisingly towards Viktor. Unlike last time, he wrote to him about coming to Kievren. It took less than a day before he had gotten an ecstatic letter from the Crown Prince who had asked for a dance in advance. Yuuri had to agree, he didn’t have the heart to say no.

He wasn’t officially invited per say. Anyone out of Calabria had no idea that the Second Prince of Oyeshima was here. No, it was safer to attend as Phichit’s plus one. He had discreteness and the opportunity to see Viktor again, he just needed to be cautious.

(Celestino even gave him a lecture about being more discreet when it came to spending time with Viktor.)

Otabek has tagged along with them, although Yuuri suspected it wasn’t to have a good time like Phichit wanted. Whatever his reasons were it didn’t weigh on his mind too much, as long as he didn’t cause trouble.

“Just be yourself,” he heard Phichit say ahead of him. “Don’t hesitate. Be like Yuuri and go get him.”

“Wasn’t he drunk?” Otabek asked.

“Yes, I was.” Yuuri rolled his eyes, cutting in. He caught up with the both of them. “Is this about Prince Yuri?”

Otabek must have been sheepish or embarrassed, and if he was, he was doing a really good job at hiding it. Yuuri and Phichit exchanges glances, how long ago had Yuuri been in the same position?

“I just wanted to talk to him,” the Khazak prince finally responded, lost in his thoughts. “I fancy talking to him.”

" _Fancy_ , huh?" Phichit did that thing with his eyebrows. 

“Whatever the two of you have to discuss, I’m sure he’ll be open to hearing it,” Yuuri remarked, ignoring the scandalised look Phichit was mockingly giving them. They had come to the end of the queue waiting to enter the ballroom. Phichit brought out his invitation, holding it close to his chest as they waited. “Just be yourself. If there’s one thing he appreciates, it’s a bit of honesty.”

“Noted.”

The ballroom had the windows open, allowing summer air to travel through, settling in between the bodies and music. Sweat mixed in with the smell of strawberries and champagne, it wasn’t unpleasant but it certainly kept you on your feet.

Otabek has split away from them, looking for a quiet corner and a certain blonde prince.

The ball had only begun and they were early. So much for a good time, it looked like they would have to be on their best behavior. 

“Do you remember doing anything like this for summer in Oyeshima?” Phichit had asked one point as he passed Yuuri a glass of red wine, a much safer option compared to the copious amounts of champagne he drowned himself in two winters ago.

“My family and I would retreat to our summer home in Kyushu, we had a manor there near a small town called Hatsetsu.” Yuuri smiled fondly, memories of bonfires and walks on the beach and dancing filled his mind. “I used to sneak out with my sister and her ladies in waiting to attend the summer festival.”

“Oh my, how rebellious of you.”

He tipped his head back, allowing a giggle to escape from his mouth as Phichit wagged his eyebrows scandalously. Thank the gods that the press had been barred from this event. “If you think I’m rebellious, then you haven’t met my sister.”

“Ah,” Phichit hummed, fanning himself with a small metal fan. The tassels attached to it swung back and forth like a pendulum. “So what was the summer festival like?”

“You would’ve loved it.” He said with an affectionate smile on his face. Words didn't do it justice. “There are all these different stalls with different games, towards midnight we would have fireworks, and there was always dancing before it ended. I wish I could take you with me.”

“Sounds like fun, too bad both of our kingdoms are so far apart from each other.”

Yuuri snorted, “You’re right but I don’t think my mother would mind if I bought a guest home.”

“Maybe you could bring a certain silver-haired prince home instead,” Phichit whispered mischievously. He tilted his drink at Viktor who was off to the side, speaking in very hushed tones with Christophe Giacometti. He looked gorgeous as ever and Yuuri felt his mouth go dry at the sight of him, it didn’t take Phichit long to notice how red his friend had become. “I’m certain at this point he’d follow you anywhere.”

“Oh my gods, Phichit!” Yuuri hissed, looking around to see if anybody heard him. “You can’t just say that!” He pressed his forehead against the material of Phichit’s shoulder to hide the red that crept into his cheeks.

“You know it’s true so why deny it?” He rolled his eyes in playful exasperation. “Go ask him to dance, Yuuri.”

“I can’t just go up and ask him to dance!”

“Sure you can!” Phichit patted him gently on the back, his drink wasn’t strong enough to last the night. He was the Crown Prince of Siam and he was bound to be recognized by someone here, he intended to have just a little bit of fun before returning to his serious princely duties and representing his country.

“I was drunk.”

“You weren’t during the spring ball,” Phichit pointed out.

“He asked me…..”

“That’s your _excuse_?” He plucked another drink from the tray of a waiter passing by and tipped his head back, downing it in seconds. It left a pleasant burn trailing down his throat.

“I want to ask him, Phichit.” He looked at Viktor with sad, longing eyes that only furthered his resolve. “But I don’t know how. I know I promised him a dance but there’s just so many people and I’m not wearing a mask like last time and he looks absolutely gorgeous and I’m----.”

Phichit loved Yuuri like he was his brother but sometimes he drove him insane, he understood though. Being the second child in a royal household resulted in an insane amount of pressure, he had escaped that due to his obligations to become King one day but his siblings could feel the strain of royals more than he ever had. Phichit could easily get away with things that his siblings couldn’t, if any of them had done half the things he did they would most likely be stripped of his titles and cast out. He vowed that he would be kinder to his children when he was king, no one should live in fear of their parents and society like that.

Neither should Yuuri. Sometimes he wished Yuuri could open his eyes and see how loved he was. He wished that he didn’t doubt himself or bar himself from love or happiness or peace of mind----Yuuri deserved so much in life and Phichit cursed the gods for how cruel they were to give him such a prophecy.

So as the prophets say; with great power come great …...something. He couldn’t remember what the rest of the saying was but he knew exactly what he was going to do. It wasn’t improper if Phichit was there. The friend of the Crown Prince of Siam dancing with the Crown Prince of Kievren, nobody would be able to object to it.

“Yuuri!” He said, placing a finger on his lips before he worked himself up too much. (He’d rather leave that part to Viktor.) Phichit grabbed his hands pulling his friend to the dance floor. “Let’s dance. Just follow me.”

Phichit took the lead and Yuuri followed. He twirled the both of them around the floor leading them closer and closer in Viktor’s direction. Viktor looked up from his drink, catching Phichit’s gaze. He waved and spun Yuuri away from the floor before working his way through the crowd, standing in front of Viktor with a confused Yuuri in tow.

Yuuri went red as he stared at Viktor who was dressed head to toe in a dapper blue velvet suit and black trousers, a white silk cravat tucked against his neck that looked like spun starlight. His double-breasted grey suit with the blue embroidered accents paled next to him. He resisted the urge to reach out and run his fingers through his hair, Yuuri felt his heart squeeze painfully as Viktor gazed at him and he knew that he couldn’t find a single part of him that wanted to run away.

“Your Highness,” Phichit greeted with a wink.

“Your Highness.” Viktor parroted, the both of them shared a knowing look. Yuuri glanced the between the two of them who were clearly sharing an inside joke.

“Lord Giacometti,” Phichit extended his arm to Christophe. “Would you do me the honour of introducing me to your husband, I’ve heard quite a great deal about him.”

Neither Yuuri or Viktor acknowledged Christophe’s response or the fact that the both of them left, it was just the two of them now in their own world. Yuuri’s fears and inhibitions slid off him like a second skin as Viktor lifted his hand ghosting a kiss across his knuckles. “Yuuri.”

“Viktor.” He greeted, eyeing the lavender rose that had been pinned to his lapel.

“I was waiting for you to ask me to dance,” He said.

Yuuri took a step closer, feeling his bravery return bit by bit. The sweet scent of rose made his head swim.“I thought it would be improper. I didn’t want to cause any trouble. I’m sorry,” He apologized. “I know I promised you.”

To his surprise, Viktor giggled.

(What a beautiful sound.)

“Says the man who was drunk the first time he asked me to dance with him.” Viktor leaned down again, he couldn’t help himself as his kiss lingering a few seconds longer. “I was waiting for you to show up and now you’re here. You look beautiful.”

“I could be wearing a sack of potatoes and you’d still call me beautiful,” Yuuri scoffed softly, more playful than annoyed.

Viktor sighed, his thumb rubbing circles across his skin. “I missed you so, so much.”

“And I you.” He tilted his head up smiling. At this moment, if nobody had been around, Yuuri would’ve proudly hooked his arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He blinked, clearing away the thought before it could take root. It was awfully tempting, Viktor and he were so very close. Their faces were literally inches apart. “Dance with me, Your Highness?”

“Always.”

 

 

One, two, three.

One, two, three.

One, two, thr----

Yuri winced as the girl he danced with mistepped, pressing down on his toes with not too dainty feet. He smiled, assuring her that it was of no convenience before finishing the Walz. He didn’t know her name nor did he bother to remember it, she curtsied to him deeply, obviously well practised for someone her age before retreating into the crowd with red staining her cheeks. He felt sorry for her, it couldn’t be easy dancing in front of so many people.

Another waltz started again and he suppressed the urge to groan, the notes of the violin driving him near insanity when his aunt subtly pushed another dance partner towards him. This one was a boy who was twice his height with curly ash coloured hair and green eyes, no doubt one of Lilia’s distant relations. He was more nervous as his previous partner, stuttering a greeting and bowing deeply before Yuri ended his misery and accepted the dance.

That was how his evening progressed, between dancing and smiling, Yuri felt like his toes were going to fall off his feet at this rate. The muscles on his face were already starting to strain. 

He spotted several faces that were familiar to him, most of them blurred by before he could catch their gaze.

Yakov and Lilia danced together, their features stone cold and distant as they danced through a single waltz before standing on opposite sides of the room, ignoring each other as if they were strangers than spouses. The frigidity that existed before them had steadily grown wider in the recent years, Yuri never understood but watching them treat each other like that made him wonder if that was what his future would be like.

Christophe Giacometti and his husband were in their own little world, gazing heavily into each other's eyes. Red creeping into his cheeks as Christophe slid his hands down, a mischievous smile on his face. His husband looked barely scandalized by his spouse's actions, instead, he leaned in pressing a kiss to his lips. He looked away, leaving them to it.

Mila was with someone too. She looked like she was having the time of her life as she dipped, spun, and lifted her partner through the waltz. Yuri wondered if that was the girl that she had been raving about all week, he couldn’t remember her name. They were so close, whispering and giggling. When Yuri searched for them again, he saw Mila being pulled away. The familiar mess of red hair disappeared into the sea of faces.

His aunt and uncle took the floor, Galena danced like a swan across a moonlit pond. His uncle barely took his eyes off her when she spun around him with her green and amber skirts brushed across his calves, he held her hand delicately before spinning her back into his arms. Yuri watched them as he held themselves close, their heads close as they spoke in hushed tones---no longer the King and Queen but a husband and wife who were very much in love. They practically glowed with it. No one could be as fortunate as them.

And then there was Viktor and Yuuri.

God, these two did not know the word subtle. Viktor had this lovesick expression on his face and practically advertised the fact that he was in love. Yuri would have gladly told Viktor to go and propose to Yuuri to put everyone out of their misery but then he remembered why that couldn’t happen. There was a thorn of sadness pricking at his heart as his partner lifted him in the air as the music hit its crescendo. His feet touched the ground and he saw Viktor drag Yuuri away from the dance floor, into the crowd, and out of sight. Nobody had seemed to notice and if they did, they kept to himself but he did and he wondered how stupid Viktor could be to do something so stupid?

If anything happened, it wouldn’t just be Viktor’s name that got dragged through the dirt---Yuuri was strong but Yuri knew that there was no way that he could withstand the onslaught the press and public would bring down upon him.

_Shit._

This was getting messy. He hoped that Viktor knew what he was doing.

Yuri’s partner bowed to him, thanking him for the dance. He barely acknowledged them, his eyes were focused on his aunt and uncle who were blissfully unaware of their idiotic son. Another soon took their place and this one wasn’t a nervous idiot, he was cocky in the way he held himself and if there was one thing that Yuri absolutely despised, it was cockiness. It was another boy, some nobel man’s son with brown hair tied back in a ponytail and a toothy smile that was a little too forced.

And he was _flirting_ with him too.

God, could this evening get any worse?

He wanted to retch, he was barely fifteen and this asswipe was well into his early twenties. What was his aunt thinking when she picked this asshole?! No doubt that this moron thought that Yuri was his meal ticket to the throne, he wasn’t even worthy to touch the steps of it. He’d been dealing with this, another unfortunate problem of his newfound title: courting.

The conversation barely lasted past the waltz, the older boy leering down at him and asked him for another dance.

“Your Highness,” A familiar voice said behind him. Yuri turned his head, his hair flaring around his face at the sudden movement. “May I have this dance?”

Otabek stood there dressed in an eye-catching dark green suit along with black trousers that had the same green stripes travelling down its sides. He wore a dark grey vest under his jacket that covered a white dress shirt. Yuri noticed that his hair had been recently cut and coiffed, a few inky black strands fell on his forehead. The stoic expression remained on his face, looked past Yuri and at his previous dance partner who took a step back and bowed before leaving them on the dance floor with a scowl.

“What the fuck took you so long?” Yuri asked as he placed his hands in Otabeks.

“There are too many people here.” He simply said before pulling the both of them into the sea of dancing bodies. “And I was distracted by the food.”

“That’s your excuse?” Yuri raised a delicate eyebrow at him.

“Actually I was nervous,” Otabek admitted. He took a step back letting Yuri twirl around him before he placed his hand on his waist, right over the spot where his soulmark burned underneath the material of his clothes and took the lead. “I wanted to ask you something and I kept putting it off. I thought it would be appropriate to ask you in person.”

“As long as it’s not a marriage proposal.”

“You’re only fifteen,” Otabek pointed out.

“ _Right_.” Yuri rolled his eyes, scoffing. “So what did you want to ask me?”

“Are we friends?” He asked seriously.

Yuri narrowed his eyes, wondering if Otabek was serious or not. “Beka, you saved my life and nursed my dumb ass back to health. Yeah, I’m pretty damn sure that we’re friends at this point. What kind of dumb question is that?”

Otabek smiled, just a faint tug of his lips, and said, “Good.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Yuri warned.

“I’d prefer not to be burned thank you very much, Yura.” He said, his grip tightening on Yuri’s waist as he lifted him up in the air.

“Just keep dancing with me and I’ll think about it,” Yuri smirked.

 

 

 

Yuuri looked down at their entwined hands and then back up at Viktor who towed him through the hallways of the palace with an enthusiastic grin on his face. He silently fretted as neither of them had uttered a single word as they passed countless halls with paintings that gazed at them and vases that looked like they belonged in a separate century. Walking through the palace felt like going back in time.

“Viktor?” Yuuri called out, his words echoing throughout the quiet hallways. “Where are we going?”

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Viktor said.

He stopped in front of a large tapestry of a woman holding a skull with glowing eyes, looking around like a frightened doe as she stood in front of a rickety house obscured by the forest and skeletons with heads hung in shame, their eye sockets glowing eerily in the distance. She was beautiful with the same pale hair and blue eyes as Viktor. A distant ancestor perhaps?

“Vasilisa,” Viktor stated as he let go of Yuuri’s hand and pushed away the woven tapestry to reveal a stone door behind it. He pressed his hand against the door, blue runes lighted up briefly before it swung open to show a small corridor enveloped in darkness. “She’s a character from a children's fairy tale.”

“She’s beautiful,” Yuuri said looking at the face of Vasilisa.

“Well, she was called Vasilisa the Beautiful by everyone around her.”

“She looks like you.” Yuuri reached up, his fingers barely touching the fibres of the tapestry, scared that it might turn to ash and dust the moment he laid a finger on it. Her cool blue eyes watched him in silence, hiding unknowns secrets that had been a witness throughout the centuries. “It’s something about the eyes.”

“Are you calling me _beautiful_ , Yuuri?” Viktor asked coyly. “That’s quite the compliment.”

“But you are beautiful Viktor,” Yuuri pointed out as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. And it was true. To him, Viktor was beautiful both inside and out. It was a pity the Viktor experienced people who saw his face instead of his heart and mind, they shined brighter than him---especially when he was happy.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, red creeping into his cheeks. His lips were parted in surprise, Yuuri’s eyes lingering on them for a second too long before he raised his gaze back up to his eyes.

He cleared his throat, pointing to the secret passageway Viktor had opened. “You wanted me to meet with somebody?”

“Oh, yes!” Viktor snapped out of his reverie, flashing him a giddy looking smile before pulling him into the secret passageway. He snapped his finger conjuring a small ball of blue light to guide their way. “Stay close to me.”

The passageway was narrow, nearly brushing the material of his jacket. There were cobwebs and a fine layer of dust on the floor indicating that almost nobody used it except Viktor. It wasn’t surprising, Viktor had told him many times that he would sneak out of the palace looking when he was younger. He must’ve known every single passageway in and out of the palace, Yuuri couldn’t recall the Palace in Edo having any but the small manor in Hatsetsu had several that he and Mari took advantage of. Mari had been the one to teach him where each one was and it didn’t take very long for him to use them on an almost daily basis.

“You’re so silent, Yuuri.” He felt Viktor squeeze his hand gently. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Yuuri lied, feeling the fresh wave of guilt bubbling in his veins. It left him was a bad taste in his mouth. “I was just thinking of home.”

“I’m sorry,” Viktor said, sounding sympathetic. “I know you must miss it.”

“I haven’t been home in almost five years, Viktor.” He didn’t know why he was telling Viktor this. It seemed so trivial to him, just another thing that others dismissed.

“Why haven’t you gone home yet?”

Yuuri knew that Viktor wasn’t trying to pry, he could hear how genuinely interested he was about his home. He owed some honesty to him even if he did nothing but lie to him about who he really was. Would Viktor be furious at him? Would he leave? Would he hate him? Yuuri didn’t know and he never wanted to know the answers to those questions.

He sighed, deeply. “I haven’t done what I set out to do yet. I don’t want to go back home with nothing to show for it.” _And also the fact that my soulmate is reason I die but I can’t really tell you that because I’m afraid that if they find me then they’ll come after you and I’m in love with you so I don’t_ \-----Yuuri forced himself to stop thinking, taking a breath in and holding it for a few seconds before quietly and slowly releasing it.

It would neither of them any good to think about what his future held for them.

“Do they love you?”

“Yes?’ Yuuri responded, confused by the sudden question.

“Then it doesn’t matter,” Viktor stopped suddenly. He turned around, his arms wrapping around him like a protective cage. Yuuri felt no hesitation as his arms slip up his back, gently crushing the fine material of his jacket as he returned the hug, silently inhaling the comforting scent of a winter night and fresh mint that was so uniquely Viktor. “You could bring back the world or nothing at all, and it wouldn’t matter. From what you’ve told me about your family, they sound like the type of people to love you unconditionally. Don’t you think that it breaks their hearts the longer that you stay away from them?”

“ _Viktor_ …….” Yuuri wanted to tell him everything right then and there. He wanted to take the knife out of the sleeve of his jacket and press it into the protective casing around his heart, spilling every secret he held inside of himself. He couldn’t take it when Viktor looked at him like he was his entire world or when he held his hand to his chest, cradling his fragile heart through skin and bone. Yuuri wanted to scream, to yell, to kiss him but he didn’t---he just stood there with a starstruck look that made his brown eyes melt in adoration because even after all this time and countless reassurances, he still felt like he didn’t deserve someone like Viktor.

But he was working on that, he wanted to become the person that Viktor could believe in—-one that didn’t hide from destiny it or cower from his own mind.

He would be worthy, one day.

“I would love to see where you grew up,” Viktor pulled back from his shoulder, his hand cradling the side of his face. “You describe Hatsetsu like it’s utopia.”

(Ah, that would be a problem.)

Yuuri chuckled, a mess of emotions and complicated feelings. “Not quite but close enough. You would love it during the spring. I’d take you with me if I could.”

“I’d love that,” He pouted adorably. “But I have responsibilities here.”

And Yuuri tried not to think of Viktor with him in Oyeshima; the walks on the beach, them sitting under the cherry blossoms, Viktor enjoying Katsudon for the first time, the warmth of the hot springs, the lingering chill of winter as they danced during the festivals. It was a beautiful dream but that was all it would remain---a faraway and whimsical dream.

Viktor eventually pulled away, leading him down the passageway. It didn’t take very long for them to reach their destination. The door swung open leading into a well-furnished bedroom with large windows and an equally beautiful bed with ornate dark oak bannisters. There was no painting to decorate the walls, they remained bare painted over with a shade of blue that remained Yuuri of Ice Skating and winter air.

He walked over to the desk that was tucked in the far corner surrounded by bookshelves, several frames and pictures were lined up.

A younger Viktor looked up at him through a glass of pale greys and harsh white, his hair gleamed as the strands of silver tumbled down his side; Viktor smile brightly as he had his hands arched above him as he balanced on skates. He couldn’t have been more than five years old, Yuuri wasn’t even born at that point.

He thumbed over his face, leaving faint smudges on the glass. “So adorable,” he whispered to himself.

Yuuri couldn’t help but smile.

“That was taken by my father.” Viktor leaned on the corner of his desk, watching Yuuri with an apprehensive look. Yuuri looked up at him, curiosity burning in his eyes. “We were on holiday near the mountains, my father wanted to spend time with me so we went ice skating. That was the day he taught me how to skate and when I could glide on the ice without falling, he took this photo of me. He used to experiment with it when he was younger.”

“You look so happy here.”

“I did,” Viktor sighed. “It feels like such a long time ago.”

“You’re happy now.” Yuuri pointed out. He placed the picture down gently. “You’ve been nothing but happy since we started dancing.”

“Oh, Yuuri. That’s only because you’re here,” Viktor stated candidly, his gaze turned heavy. Yuuri felt something burn inside of him again, that familiar ache that kept him wide awake at night as his heart raced with the thought of Viktor in his mind. “I don’t think anyone has ever made me as happy as you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri slid his hand over to Viktors, his fingertips craving the warmth of his skin that ignited a longing in his soul that burned viciously.

Viktor, with a steady breath and a loud heart, leaned in pressing his forehead against Yuuri’s.

He felt his heart stop and then start racing again, going so fast that is rivalled that of the engine of a train. The air felt so much lighter now, air passing in and out of his lungs with ease. Many things were happening at the same time; the sound of his pulse raging past his ears, Viktor swiping the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, Yuuri feeling his tongue grow heavy with all the things he wanted to say, the smell of mint and flowers——everything was loud, beckoning him closer. The world that laid so precariously outside the door seemed trivial to him, it was just him and Viktor alone in a room with no one to tell them what was wrong and what was right.

They were barely centimetres apart.

“Viktor?” Even his voice sounded different too, only a few octaves lower as Viktor glanced down at his lips, his eyes mimicking Yuuri from earlier.

“Vitya,” Viktor said pushing off the table and resting his hands on his waist, pulling him closer. “Please call me, Vitya from now on.”

“ _Vitya._ ” Yuuri rolled the name over his lips, savouring the sweet flavour of the syllables. Viktor seemed to approve, regarding him with half-lidded eyes that narrowed the view of his blue eyes. He knew that he wasn’t going to make it through this night with his sanity or composure intact if Viktor kept staring at him. He slips his hands up his chest over the fabric of his suit, settling to wrapping his arms around his neck as if to say to end his misery and kiss him already!

It was the very definition of agony.

Yuuri closed his eyes. The next few seconds felt agonizing as Viktors warm breath skim the surface of his lips.

Instead of the press of a pair of velvety lips, Yuuri heard the sound of approaching footfalls and an excited bark before he was ripped away from Viktor, landing on his back with a solid _umph_ as a mass of curly brown hair and excitement sat atop his ribcage, her tail wagging back and force excitedly in the air.

“I’m assuming you’re Makkachin!” Yuuri laughed, the slight disappointment washed away by an onslaught of kisses. How could anybody be mad at Makkachin?

“Makka!” Viktor tried to pull the poodle off Yuuri by grabbing onto her collar but she resisted, allowing herself to be spoiled by Yuuri who was giving her all of his attention.

Was it wrong to be _jealous _of your own dog?__

__Yuuri cooed sweetly, scratching her behind her ears and Viktor felt his heart melt at the sight. He sighed, a little bit more in love as Yuuri took off his glasses, setting them to the side to avoid getting slobber all over the lenses. Yuuri had a smile on his face that could light up the city of Rusberg through the entire summer and winter._ _

__Viktor sat there, sharing the moment. “Yuuri, Makka. Makka, Yuuri,” He said, introducing the two loves of his life to each other._ _

__“You’re such a pretty girl, Makka” Yuuri sweetly said. Makkachin seemed to agree with the statement, proceeding to place her front paws on his chest, wagging her tail so fast that it seemed to blur._ _

__Time halted for the two of them, anxiously waiting for them to say something as they sat across from each other on the floor. Yuuri wished that time wasn’t so humble or generous, instead, he felt like time and fate were in some sort of inside joke that left Yuuri with his heart shattered on the carpeted floors. The only thing that Yuuri wished was for the man across from him could be his and his alone but the marks that waved across his collarbone and his heart told him that he couldn’t. He had someone waiting for him---he just wondered if they were as well._ _

__It wouldn’t be long until his twenty-fourth birthday, at the moment it was the peak of summer so that meant he had only five months till fate decided to play her hand._ _

__He had debated for months if he should tell Viktor about his soulmate or not but every time he pressed the tip of his quill to paper, he found that he could not do it. Too many ‘what ifs’ held his hand back, the words dying in his mind. Would Viktor ever be okay with that? Would he still want Yuuri? Would he still love him? (The answer to all those questions was yes but given Yuuri’s massive ability to doubt others as well as himself, those answers soon turned into no’s.)_ _

__But, he knew----deep down in his heart and soul----that Viktor must've felt the same about him. If Makkachin hadn’t interrupted, would Yuuri have taken the initiative and done it? He knew he would’ve, it would be simple; lift up on his toes and press his lips to Viktor’s. Now he didn’t know how kissing worked, and most of the books he’s read say what kissing feels like but not how to do it so he didn’t really know what to do after that. His cheeks were still flushed pink but his heart had finally stopped trying to break out of his chest, Viktor had no idea how much he could wreck Yuuri with a smile._ _

__He peeked through his lashes, glancing at Viktor who held his gaze. Yuuri felt a longing of a different kind as Viktor smiled hazily at him, his mouth closed as the corner of his lips curved upwards._ _

__“Yuuuuri.” Viktor drew out his name playfully._ _

__“Yes?”_ _

__“Say my name again,” He asked. “Please?”_ _

__Yuuri could never refuse Viktor anything. “Vitya,” Yuuri repeated, his lips forming the vowels gently. “What does it mean?” He asked as Makkachin bumped his hand, miffed that his attention had been diverted away. Yuuri ran his fingers through her curls in response. Like master, like dog, he thought amusedly._ _

__“It’s a nickname,” Viktor explained, his eyes downcasted as if he was shy. He reached for Yuuri’s hand that rested on his lap. “It’s something that people in Kievren reserve for those that we hold dear. Not many people call me Vitya so it warms my heart when you do so.”_ _

__“Oh,” Yuuri breathed, something warm blooming in the center of his heart. “I _see_ ,” He choked out. Pure happiness flooded his veins, making him tremble in joy, he was so close to crying bittersweet tears as Viktor leaned down, kissing the pads of his fingers one by one till he pressed his cold lips to his palms. It was a silent act of devotion, still intimate but brimming with love and affection that he couldn’t say._ _

__Viktor never ceased to amaze him._ _

__The tolls of midnight snatched his attention away. Yuuri stood up suddenly, cursing that they couldn’t have more time together. There was so much to say and such little time to do so. Were they doomed to communicate through letters?_ _

__“I have to go,” He said, fumbling around for his coat. “I’m sorry, Vitya.”_ _

__Phichit and Otabek would be waiting in the ballroom, eager to leave. They all agreed to go to leave by midnight due to them having several affairs to attend to the next day. Sleep would be necessary._ _

__“So soon?”_ _

__“It’s midnight,” Yuuri pointed out._ _

__Viktor stood up and with three long strides, he was in front of him, his hands entwined with Yuuri’s. “We barely get to see each other, Miliy,” He said leaning down to press his forehead against Yuuri’s, sadness reflecting in the deep blue pools of his eyes. “I want to spend more time with you.”_ _

__Yuuri closed his eyes. “I know, Vitya.”_ _

__“When do you plan to leave tomorrow?” Viktor tightened his grip on his hands as if the thought of being away from him again hurt._ _

__“Seven Thirty, I’ll be taking the morning train out.” He said, wishing that he could stay a little longer here._ _

__Viktor nodded, his mouth remained sealed when Yuuri opened his eyes again. He glanced down to his lips which were only a few inches away from his, a familiar urge pooled in his gut. One kiss couldn’t hurt, he thought to himself before recoiling from the thought violently. No! As much as he loved Viktor, he knew that it would be foolish of him to give in to his feelings. Until his twenty-third year passed in peace, when he felt certain that he would live--- _that_ was when Yuuri would tell Viktor everything. Until then, this was all he could allow himself to have. It just wasn’t enough for his heart which raged greedy and drunk with love. He feared it never would be. Of course, he wanted more---he would always want more because Yuuri was a selfish man on the inside. _ _

__Yuuri didn’t even realize that he made a promise he couldn’t keep._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! I finally posted a chapter on schedule!  
> I'll see you guy's next time with another new chapter, hold onto your butts because I'm going to dump a bucket load of feels onto you guys.  
> Don't hesitate to leave a comment of kudos!


	14. Vicia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vicia: I cling to thee

Viktor had awoken early today, earlier than most days, earlier than he ever did in his entire life. The sun had barely kissed the sky by the time he was ready. Makkachin lazily barked while circling around his legs, curious to why her master was awake when they could be sleeping in instead.

“Makka,” He cooes like a dove, giving her well deserve scratch behind her ears. “I’m going to see Yuuri again.” She recognized the name, wagging her tail furiously and glancing around as if the dark haired man would magically appear. (If he did, he was sure that his heart would give out right there and then.) “I know, I’m excited too!”

Three rapt knocks on his door brought him out of his fantasies, he chuckled at the direction of his thoughts before swinging his door open to reveal Georgi.

“Good Morning, Lieutenant!” Viktor chirped.

“I wish I could say the same, your highness,” Georgi said. He holds out a thick envelope that he had spent most of the night putting together. The bags underneath his eyes (or was that makeup?) showed his exhaustion, Viktor was naturally impervious. “I’ve taken care of the train tickets as well as the seating. Captain Mila has full autonomy over the guards that will be escorting you and the princess. They've been instructed to stay in second class." 

Viktor peeked into the envelope, satisfied that the contents were secure. “Well done, Lieutenant. I knew I could count on you.”

Georgi rolled his eyes. “Anything else, Your Highness?”

Viktor let the door swing open, inviting Lieutenant Popovich inside. Some matters where best to be discussed behind closed doors. “How is the investigation going?” He asked, lowering his voice.

“We’re still trying to locate the maid matching the description that Prince Yuri provided us,” Georgi said, clasping his hands tightly behind his back. “However, all we’ve managed to uncover is a name given to us by the head cook. So far her whereabouts are unknown.”

“And her home?” Viktor didn’t like the sound of that. Who was this person? A spy? An assassin? There were a number of possibilities but Viktor refused to rule a single one of them out unless he had absolute confirmation. This didn’t sit well with him, he gnawed at his lower lip in an undignified manner as he let his thoughts run wild once more. “Did she have a family of any sorts?”

“A small house near the ports.” Georgi slipped a few notes from the pocket of his uniform, reading out what he had jotted down. To be honest, he deserved a raise for all the shit Viktor put him through but he compromised since it was his duty, and also because Anya like men in uniform. “ Her name is Lyra Smyrnoi, mother of three. Married to her soulmate and husband, Jacobi Smyrnoi, a deckhand. Oldest daughter works as a seamstress, two of her sons are twins who are in grade school, and according to the midwife, she had a little one on her way.”

Ah, that made more sense. A poor maid working for the palace selling secrets to the highest bidder. Everything clicked into place; Lyra must’ve asked for too much or perhaps her bidder simply disposed of her. That would explain why they couldn't find her. If she had survived and if she comes back to the palace, surely she would’ve been caught by now. Someone must've tipped her off about the situation. 

Another problem then.

Wonderful.

It seemed most of Viktor’s problems linked to pile over him, crushing them with their weight till he found a way to resolve them. Some may call it procrastination but then again, some didn’t understand that most of these problems couldn’t be waved away with the simple wave of his hand. These problems were born out of the reach of Viktor and they usually landed at his feet demanding him to do something and he can only stare with wary, tired eyes as one more fracture rips a chasm through his defences.

“Your Highness?” Georgi tucked his notes back into his uniform. “Should I send out a few of our men to----”

“No, Lieutenant,” Viktor said. He leaned down to say goodbye to Makkachin before slinging his travel sack over his shoulder, a smile on his face that made George dread the words that would come from his mouth. He really deserved a raise. “I want you to investigate and report back to Yakov. This matter stays between us, under no circumstances is this to be known to anyone. Including my parents. Understood?”

Georgi signed, too tired and too stressed to argue with the Crown Prince. Looks like him and Anya will have to plan dinner another time. “Understood.” He grasped the door handle, holding the door open to Viktor. “Enjoy your vacation, Your Highness. God knows you deserve one.”

 

 

 

“What do you mean that I’ve been moved to first class?!” Yuuri gaped at the clerk through the glass of the ticket stall. “I’m reserved tickets for third!”

The summer sun bore down on his skin, sweat trickled from his brow as he stood on his tiptoes. He was tired and he felt like he was about to pass out, peak summer wasn’t anything new to Yuuri but it was the fact that the ticket clerk was being incredibly stubborn which made it hard for him. Also, he couldn’t sleep at all last night. He kept rolling back and forth, thinking about Viktor.

“Look,” The clerk sighed. It was too damn early, it was too damn hot, he’d been on a twelve hours shift, and he didn’t have that much patience to deal pesky foreigners in the middle of summer. He tapped his nail on the name listed on the passenger manifest. “ You’re Mr. Katsuki, yes?”

“Yes…...”

“Then congrats,” He said, flatly. Guesting him to move to the side. “You’ve been moved to first class. Next!”

And with that, Yuuri was dismissed.

Two men in uniform came up to him and silently took his backs. Yuuri followed, wondering how they could’ve gotten his reservation wrong. He made sure to note down third class when he was filling out a reservation form. Maybe Celestino bumped him up to first class without his knowledge, it didn’t make sense but that was the only thing that made sense. Phichit couldn’t have had a hand in it, he was coming back to Calabria on a separate train. His luggage had been stowed away and Yuuri boarded the first class carriages with resignation, there would be no point arguing even though every frugal bone in his body protested against the lavish cabin he got to himself. There were two seats across from each other, a small wooden table and a series of compartments above them.

(Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to share it with anybody.)

He settled down once he stowed his travel bag, sitting towards the window. The platform was busy this morning, people from all walks of life weaved in and out of the vibrant crowds. There were oddly shaped hats and colourful garments and exotic animals that stuck close to their master sides. Yuuri could watch all day as people passed him by down below, maybe the thought it odd that someone dressed in such simple clothing could be allowed in first class. It didn’t matter. Yuuri closed the curtains, cutting off the sunlight. At least it was cooler in his compartment.

Outside he could hear the commotion of people as trains pulled into the station, followed by the loud whistle of the train that penetrated the interior of his cabin. If it was so loud in the station then how was Yuuri suppose to sleep all the way to Calabria? He was in a fancy first-class carriage with very comfortable seats, he might as well take advantage of it. He bundled up his cloak, pressing it behind his neck and head before closing his eyes. The walls were surprisingly thin, he could hear the footfalls of the passengers and the loud “All Aboard!” of the conductor and the low thrum of the engine before it roared to life. He felt himself dozing off when the door to his cabin slid open with a loud bang, startling him out of his nap. 

"Wha---?"

“Yuuri!” a streak of silver along with eyes so blue that they sky itself grew envious darted into the cabin. Viktor looked down at him, his blue eyes gleaming. It didn’t take long before Viktor took two short strides and kneeled in front of him, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders burying his face in the crook of his neck. He was glad that he had closed the curtains, nobody but him was allowed this privilege of seeing Viktor like this. “I missed you, darling.”

“I should’ve known,” He said before settling against Viktor with a tight embrace. Yuuri inhaled, his head swimming. He would never get used to this. “It’s only been a day since we’ve seen each other, Vitya.”

“A day without you feels like an eternity.” He pouted. The statement was rather dramatic but Yuuri was used to the words of endearment that spilt from Viktors lips even though he still blushed an alarming shade of pink each time. Would he ever get used to that feeling? Viktor pulled away, pressing his forehead against Yuuri’s. No, he decided, he wouldn’t be. “And you know that I’d take advantage of every opportunity to spend time with you. Do you really think that day is enough for me, Yuuri.”

“No, I suppose not.” Yuuri wasn’t complaining, he had Viktor all to himself for the next twelve hours. “How’s Makka?”

“She misses you too.”

“Vitya, why are you here---?”

“I’m escorting Princess Sara back to Calabria,” Viktor stated, placing a finger over his lips. The small action sent a shiver down his spine, the cabin suddenly felt warmer. “She’s the one who suggested this idea.”

Yuuri tilted his head to the side, expecting to see Sara standing in the door frame with a sweet, bright smile he had come to associate her with. “Where is she? Is she sharing a cabin with us?”

“In the next cabin over with Mila keeping a close eye on her.”

Yuuri smiled when he heard that. He was happy for the Princess, she deserved happiness too and he was happy that she found it in Mila. He didn’t really believe in the concept of soulmates mainly because he rejected Fate’s hand a long time ago but every time he saw Mila gaze into Sara’s eyes like she was the most precious thing she’s ever laid her eyes on, Yuuri let his heart hope just a little. If the gods weren’t so cruel to him, that could’ve been him and Viktor.

“Ah,” Yuuri mused. The carriage jolted as the familiar heart of the steam engine purred loudly, letting out two steamed wails before pulling away from the platform.

Princess Sara was the only person who was aware of Yuuri’s true identity, as a member of the royal family, she had been present when Yuuri presented himself. That had been years ago when he was fresh off the boat from Oyeshima. Sara was had turned sixteen when she first met him. They didn’t interact very much but she was always kind to him. Prince Michele became one of Celestino’s wards but due to his prickly behaviour he quickly left, Yuuri didn’t really remember much about him other than his blatant warning to stay away from his sister and a rather unpleasant disposition. Sara was by far more kinder, smiling whenever Yuuri stutter over his words and encouraged him to be freer around others.

He was thankful to Sara. It meant so much to him that she kept his secret.

“I’m so happy you’re here, Vitya.” He whispered into the material of his jacket.

Yuuri knew he should’ve let go. It had only been a day after all but Yuuri’s time was already so limited, each day was a step closer to his twenty-fourth birthday. Every waking moment with Viktor was precious to him. It didn’t matter how long they had been separated; Feet, miles, or even vast kingdoms, his heart would always beg for Viktor and he knew Viktor would always find him.

I love you.

That’s what he wanted to say. The words coated his tongue with the sweet taste of love. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking another lungful of his scent. Yuuri swore on his grandmother's grave that he would tell Viktor everything when the time came. But for now, in this small cabin, he held onto Viktor, inhaling the familiar scent of winter and mint.

 

 

 

Mila wasn’t the one to eavesdrop. Her mother had been adamant that she should keep her nose out of others business, (Her mother also said that girls weren’t meant for the military but that was years ago when she was the mother of a poor farmhand rather than the Captain of the Palace Guard.)

She pressed her ear more firmly against the wall, only catching snippets of conversation.

“Anything of interest?” Sara asked. She sat across from her, a book in her hand. With nimble fingers she turned the pages, her lips pressed into a firm line as she tried to concentrate, it made her look adorable.

Mila pushed away from the wall. “Sadly nothing. Viktor is gushing out soliloquies and I can feel Yuuri blushing through the walls ” She sighed, sliding back next to Sara. “Do you think they’ll stop dancing around each other? It’s almost comedic to see them like that; Viktor pining away like a fool and Yuuri pretending to be oblivious about it.” Mila brushed back the loose strands that hung over Sara’s eyes, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “At this rate, I think I’ll win the bet.”

Sara snorted, a cute little noise hidden behind the bony ridges of her hand. “Amore, you of all people shouldn’t underestimate two people in love.” She said, snapping her book close. The action felt oddly final. Mila’s eyes darkened as Sara reached over, with a quick tug the curtains came undone. Mila reached back behind her, turning the bolt of the cabin door. Their eyes never left each other.

“Oh really?” She purred as she pulled off Sara’s gloves, bending down to graze her lips across her knuckles before brushing over their shared soulmarks marks. “If I remember, it was you who said you loved me first.”

“Well if I remember correctly, it was you who kissed me first.” Sara tilted her chin up. Her violet eyes turned soft, galaxies spiralling in her eyes and silver flecks shining like stars. Mila felt her breath halt in her throat, sandwiched between the overwhelming need to hold Sara close to her arms and to never let her go as well the intense longing that settled in the scarlet marrow of her bones.

The borders blurred past them but it didn’t matter, the world had condensed itself into this moment---Mila swallowed thickly. Every touch, every look, every breath felt like it had been intensified.

Sara brushed her thumb across her bottom lip, her face morphing into pure bliss. “Kiss me?”

Mila didn’t wait, she tangled her fingers in her hair, pulling the Princess down to her level. A growl ripped from her throat as she wrapped her arms around Sara’s waist, pulling her into her lap. They had several hours ahead of them till they reached Calabria, Mila felt a possessive urge deep in her bones as she caged Sara in her arms. She smelled sweet, her scent enveloping her bringing them closer and closer till she couldn’t decipher where Sara began and where she ended.

Sara dipped her head, nosing at the collar of her uniform, desperate for the warm skin underneath. Mila felt her heart let out a fragile scream, halting in her chest before her toes curled up, heat escaping her as Sara unbuttoned her collar. Sara must’ve felt how her heart thrummed against her chest, she kissed her on her mouth. Mila's hands fisted the material of her blouse, the walls were thin here.

“You’re not the only one who’s afraid, amore,” Sara whispered hotly into her ear. Her hands were still over the golden buttons, the material of her skirt draping over her knees and pooling on the carpet flooring of the cabin. Mila's hands rested on her back where she could feel the buttons of her blouse running up to the back of her neck. “We have until our marriage day for that. Can’t I just hold you in my arms instead?”

“I don’t have a ring.” Mila blurted out.

Sara giggled. “We don’t need a ring. This is enough, I’m the beloved Princess of Calabria and you’re the well-respected Captain from Kievren. Who can stop us when we have no regrets?”

“No, I have none when it comes to you.” She said, pulling back. Mila kissed her nose. “I love you.”

“And I you,” Sara smirked, thumbing at the buttons of her jackets. She brushes her hand across her thigh where Mila’s pistol was attached. Mila stopped her fingers from unclasping the buckle. “What’s the matter?”

“Leave the pistol.” Sara raised an eyebrow. “I’m still on duty,” she explained.

“That’s perfectly fine with me, Captain.” She sang. “We’ll have to be quiet.”

“I give no guarantees, Princess,” Mila said, unbuttoning the buttons of her blouse.

 

 

The steady of the sound of the tracks beneath their feet reverberated with their heartbeats. Viktor had his head in Yuuri’s lap, he still had their fingers entwined as they conversed in low tones. The curtains blocked the afternoon sunlight. They hid away from the sun and the world, preferring the company of each other.

They lapsed into silence after lunch; Yuuri was scribbling away in his journals beside him, eyes focused on the cream coloured pages of illustrations and elegant scrawl. Yuuri’s glasses were perched on the tip of his nose, his brow furrowed in concentration, the tip of his tongue jutting out once in a while over his bottom lip. Viktor was completely smitten, Yuuri Katsuki could have shown him his ugliest face and he would’ve sighed like a fool. Viktor laid his head on the table, the subtle movements of the carriage causing his head to ache. He reached over, grasping for Yuuri’s free hand. Viktor closed his eyes smiling when Yuuri entwined their hands, lightly rubbing circles on the smooth skin over his knuckles.

It was soothing and domestic. Viktor could die like this.

“Tell me about home,” he said. Yuuri’s ministrations stopped, Viktor held his breath releasing it only when Yuuri continued to trace the small circles. “I want to hear more, that’s all. I’d never pry, darling.”

“It’s close to autumn, the trees should be turning red.” Viktor shifted, lifting his head up. Yuuri had stopped writing, his eyes were downcast as he played with Viktor’s fingers. “It’s so gorgeous in the mornings, it was like the gods had deceased and painted the trees overnight. My father and I used to walk through the groves. He would always pick up a leaf and present it to mother. It didn’t matter if it was a single leaf or a flower, she’d always take it with a smile on her face.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“Red maple leaves aren’t anything special but the colour red is the colour of love,” Yuuri explained fondly. “I didn’t understand what it meant until Minako-sensei explained it to me.”

Viktor’s hand travelled to the lavender rose against his heart. “You gave me a lavender rose for my birthday.”

Yuuri blushed but he smiled knowingly. “It reminded me of you.”

“Is it because it’s the colour of royalty?”

Viktor knew that Yuuri wasn’t that vain. Purple was the mark of royalty, his mother favoured the colour even in summer. His wardrobe did have various shades of purple but Viktor always felt more comfortable in soft shades of pink and magenta. He was curious to know more, Yuuri wasn’t the one to do anything expected. With him, it was a constant string of surprises that never ended.

“No,” He said. “It was just because of how soft and pretty it looked. The first thought that came to mind was you.”

“So you think I’m soft and pretty?” Viktor teased. He wrapped his arm around Yuuri’s waist, pulling him close to his side.

“I think I’ve told you over and over, you’re more than just pretty.” Yuuri snorted, his voice went soft. “You’re beautiful, Vitya.”

Viktor couldn’t help feeling light, his heart didn’t skip but it was running faster than a steam engine. Blood rushed into his cheeks, not out of embarrassment but because he was just so damn happy. He was holding the person he loved the most, nothing could top this. He buried his face into Yuuri’s shoulder to hide his face with a wide grin that put the sun to shame.

I adore you, I love you, I wanted to marry you. Viktor was very close to blurting those phrases out.

“You still haven’t told me about your parents,” He said instead because it wasn’t time and f he was going to tell Yuuri he loved him then he’d prefer it to be under better circumstances where the weight of the world wasn’t on their shoulders. “I want to hear more about them?”

If Viktor ever had a chance to meet Yuuri’s parents, he wanted to make a good impression on them. One day, maybe soon or in the distant future, he wanted to marry Yuuri and to do that, he’d have to ask them for their son’s hand in marriage. Would Yuuri ever be okay with that? Love was one thing---a small singular river, marriage was an ocean. It could get rocky, they could capsize if they listed too far.

“What exactly, Vitya?” Yuuri asked him as he ran his fingers through his hair.

The journal was long forgotten, the ink had dried as Viktor thought long and hard. “How did they meet?” He finally asked.

“My father liked to hunt. One day when he was hunting a deer he fell off his horse and hurt himself. My mother was a healer in a village nearby, she was the one who found him while out collecting herbs."

“Soulmates?”

“Yes.”

“How did they know?”

“They never told me that part,” Yuuri admitted, the tips of his ears were red. Viktor didn’t pry. His parents were the same way. “They married when they were older. My grandmother didn’t really approve of the marriage.”

“Why?” Viktor tilted his head. “I thought the Eastern Kingdoms didn’t really care about class.”

“That’s true,” He said. “My mother was from the Northern island, the citizens there are…...odd. You see, they live close to the forests that are inhabited by all sorts of creatures; dragons, tengu, yokai. It might be why their magic is ten times more potent than the average human being, they've mingled with the creatures of myth and legend for so long,” Yuuri mused. Viktor hummed in response, not sure what to do with that answer. “I think that’s the reason why plants like me so much. Minako-sensei thinks I might have some yokai blood but we’re not sure.”

“That’s okay. I have Unseelie blood from my mother's side, it’s too diluted now,” Viktor jokes. “You still didn’t answer the question.”

“So demanding,” Yuuri chides softly. His fingers are almost hypnotic the way they rake through his hair. Viktor would have been asleep if his curiosity didn’t get the better of him. “My mother was a healer and her blood wasn’t human, my grandmother didn’t approve of her son marrying my mother.” He chuckles, the vibrations echoing through Viktor’s chest. “They decided to elope instead.”

“What?” Viktor gasps. “Yuuuuri! That’s so romantic!”

Yuuri laughs at his reaction. “They had their marriage ordained by a dragon…...or so my parents tell me. I think they were just trying to entertain Mari and I so we would just go to sleep. I don’t really know much other than that, My grandmother passed away before I was born.”

“I hope to meet your parents one day, Yuuri.” Viktor sighs in a dream like manner.

“Why?”

“Because I want to thank them for giving me you,” Viktor says. “And…...I want to know if they really had their marriage ordained by a dragon.”

“Vitya,” Yuuri was breathless and Viktor smiled smugly when he hid his face in his hair. Viktor could feel the heat radiating through the crown of his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But a dragon, Yuuri!” He exclaimed which caused Yuuri to giggle. “I’ve never gotten the chance to see a dragon before!”

Yuuri was practically in his lap, his head close to his. Viktor could feel the heat radiating from him in waves. He smelled wonderful too, almost floral with the faintest hint of earth that was neither distracting or odd, it was uniquely Yuuri.

“Hey, Yuuri?” Viktor’s fingers dance along the lines of his waist. “What’s your opinion on soulmates?”

“I’m don’t really care about it.” He said, Viktor couldn't see his face but he knew that Yuuri was scowling. “Back home, it’s more of a suggestion than something mandatory. Yes, everyone has a soulmate but that doesn’t mean that you’ll fall in love with them immediately. That’s not how love works, sometimes you have to choose who you want to be with.”

“But your parents----”

“They were more fortunate than Mari and I,” Yuuri sighed sadly. “Fate was kind to them.”

(Mari, he remembered Yuuri writing a letter to him about that. She had been rejected by her soulmate. Vitor felt pity for her, if he were in his shoes it would've hurt him but he didn’t know her well enough to say anything other than his condolences and words of comfort. )

Viktor knew shouldn’t have asked but he did and he kicked himself for it the moment the words left his lips. “Did you ever find your soulmate?”

Surprisingly Yuuri didn’t stiffen, he didn’t push Viktor away or snap at him, he only stayed where he was with a forlorn expression hanging off his face. Viktor wanted to kiss the sadness off his face. There were no tears but just a sense of empty resignation, a small bit of hopelessness and frustration lingered in his eyes. The look was haunting and Viktor swore that he’d do anything to banish it.

“No.” His voice was close, the answer was cutting full of hidden venom and laced with something dark that made Viktor shiver.

And that was that.

They lapsed back into silence once again, Viktor had no more questions. Instead, he hoarded the newer questions that flood his mind; Was Yuuri lying? Did he hate his soulmate? What could’ve been so terrible that Yuuri would rather choose Viktor over the person he was destined to be with? Viktor didn’t know if he was worthy of Yuuri, or that if he was being selfish by keeping him away. But if Yuuri didn’t want to be with his soulmate then that meant that Viktor could be there, right? Right? Or was that not how it worked? His soulmate didn’t exist and he’d rather chose to spend the rest of his life with someone who loved him rather than with the person that god supposedly assumed was his perfect match.

“I don’t really care much for my soulmate either,” Viktor found himself admitting. “I don’t think I’ll find anyone who’ll understand me.” Not as well as you do, anyway.

“Don’t you want to find them one day?”

Ah, how was he suppose to tell him the complicated story behind his marks? Would it make Yuuri pull away or would it put the final nail in the coffin, and push Yuuri towards him? He was half tempted to find out. Viktor looked up, lifting his hand up to cup his cheek. Yuuri leaned into the touch, the tension draining from his body. “No,” Viktor said, more certain of his answer than he’s been in the past decade. “I don’t want them anymore.”

He couldn’t have been more blatant about his affections. Yuuri’s eyes widened, and Viktor found himself drowning in puddles of rich, warm chocolate. Flecks of gold held his gaze, mimicking the winking stars above them. They always ended up with only their breath between them, Viktor brushed his thumb over Yuuri’s chapped bottom lip. Yuuri wasn’t pulling away, his hands tugged lightly at the strands of silver pulling Viktor closer till their foreheads rested against each other. Viktor knew that this wasn’t how he wanted it to go but how could he resist, Yuuri was irresistible.

“Vitya….” Yuuri murmured, his lips parted as he let out a solid exhale, his back pliant underneath Viktor’s hand. He glanced down at his lips wondering how they would feel against his. Warm? Cold? Velvety?

He was dying to find out.

Viktor closed his eyes.

Yuuri was practically seated in his lap, his lips were just mere centimetres away.

The train jolted violently, pulling Viktor out of the haze. Yuuri yelped and Viktor secured his grip on his hips so that Yuuri didn’t end up tumbling to the floor. The train screeched its protest, screams echoing up and down the corridors of the carriages.

Yuuri got up, a small voice in the back of his mind protested the loss of warmth.

The train came to a stop eventually but not before another jolt rocked the carriage. Viktor stood up, nearly losing his balance. Yuuri places a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“What the hell was that?” Viktor unlocked the door, peeking his head outside and quickly ducked his head back in before bolting the door closed.

“Yuuri,” He said, grabbing his sword that he had stowed away. The ice-cold blade glinted as it peeked out if it’s sheath, begging for a fight. Viktor was willing to oblige. “Do you have any weapons on you? We might need them.”

“Viktor, what’s going on?” Yuuri asked, reaching for the curtains.

Viktor really should've brought more guards. He reached out, pulling Yuuri away from the curtains. “Bandits,” Viktor hissed underneath his breath. “A lot of them.”

 

 

 

Yuuri felt his stomach drop as Viktor glared at the closed window.

He reached up, his travel back bouncing against his hip before he quickly drew the twin daggers he his away in the confines of his sleeve, Viktor didn’t say anything. Viktor only drew closer to Yuuri. They stood back to back as they waited with bated breath.

There was an eerie silence that carried through the air, Yuuri could feel his blood turn into slush.

(Yuuri’s heard of bandits, a whole lawless group of individuals who weren’t happy with the decisions of the crown or their sovereign. He was usually careful but he had heard the stores, meeting a bandit was like brushing hands with death. (What wasn’t new for Yuuri?) They were bloodthirsty and cutthroat, mostly they valued item of high importance over spilt blood but once in a while they slit a few throats or kidnapped people for ransom when valuable wasn’t deemed enough.)

They heard the steps above them, heavy and loud. The footsteps descended down the train, disappearing. It was quiet again and then the words flew into chaos when the windows shattered. Yuuri heard someone scream in the cabin next to them. He assumed that it was Sara.

A bandit crawled through the broken glasses, a wickedly curved sword in his hand and a pistol in another. Yuuri didn’t hesitate, he stepped forward, pressing the tip of the blade into the shoulder before he could attack. The bandit screamed loudly, Yuuri spun around kicking him square in the chest. They went sailing, falling hilariously. The door behind him exploded, the splinters decorating the glass on the floor like an abstract painting.

He heard Viktor grunt behind him and he pressed his hand as it splayed over his thigh for support. Blood spilled, a scream was heard and Yuuri was pulled out of the cabin by Viktor, his grip burning through his clothes.

The corridors were full of running passengers and the howls of bandits searching cabins for valuables to pocket. Two spotted Yuuri, the black clothes covering their face his their expressions. One had a pistol, the other a sword that looked eager for the blood in his body. Yuuri stood with his back facing Viktor, eyes narrowed.

Yuuri blocked the kive aimed for his throat and then reeled his hand back, aiming it for the one with the pistol. He didn’t wait to see if it hit, he was confident enough in his abilities to know that it did. He lifted his leg, kicking up a piece of luggage at the other one. He heard a low groan and the solid thump of a body hitting the ground. Yuuri spun back around to find Viktor.

His eyes lit up in admiration where he cut through two bandits with a single move, his sword a metallic blur

Viktor was beautiful when he fought. Every parried of his sword and every slash was like a well-timed dance. There was an effortless grace that could only be cultivated by hours and hours of training and discipline, Yuuri knew because Minako had drilled him in the early morning over and over till he could effortlessly bring down a man in three moves. He was like a vengeful ghost, bodies littered the floor at his feet, blood dripped down the length of his sword.

Yuuri looked equally worse, blood had splattered upon the lenses of his glasses. The daggers felt right in his hand, the blood that decorated the etched surface didn’t bother him as much. There was too much adrenaline signing through his veins for him to properly acknowledge that he killed somebody. Guilt could be dealt with later. Viktor was waiting for him.

“Are you okay?” He asked. Viktor cupped his face, his thumb smearing the dash on blood on his cheek. There was blood on his collar, Yuuri wanted to reach out and touch it but his hands were covered in blood as well.

“Glad to see you two safe,” Mila peeked her head out of the cabin. The buttons of her coat were uneven, her hair a mess and she looked like someone had tried to strangle her, vibrant bruises made a ring around her neck.

“Princess?” Viktor stepped forward over the bodies, “Are you okay?”

“Just a minute!” She called out from behind the door.

Yuuri raised his eyes at her appearance when she appeared with a knife in her hand, she looked equally unkempt as Mila. There was a reddish-blue bruise just above her collarbone, the silk scarf she wore when she boarded the train was wrapped around Mila’s arm, a small splotch of blood pooling. He didn’t say anything when she brushed past Viktor, hers hands immediately reaching for Mila’s face, searching for any other wounds.

Viktor exchanged a glance with Mila who was turning an alarming shade of red.

“How many?” Sara asked.

“I’m not sure, Sara,” Viktor said. “Yuuri and I will head to the front.” He turned to Mila. “Captain, would you mind Escort the Princess back to the last carriages and regroup with our men?”

Sara protested but Mila straightened, saluting in an almost clocklike manner. “Yes, sir!”

She wrapped an arm around Sara’s waist, pulling her to the door that led to the second and third class carriages. At least Sara would be safe, Mila wasn’t someone you trifled with. She could protect Sara, even with her life if the situation demanded it.

Viktor turned around, “Are you okay, darling?”

Yuuri mutely nodded, he took the lead. They readied themselves as they went through the carriages, laying waste to the men who dared to oppose them. Yuuri slices his way through the skin as if it were paper, he felt almost unstoppable. The train started to move, gaining speed the closer they got to the engine room. Viktor stood by his side, covering his blindspot and Yuuri covered his. There were a deadly team with insane fighting skills.

At one point, Yuuri slammed his hands down on the floor. Bright green cascaded from his fingertips splayed on the floor, the carriage rumbled as vines erupted from the wooden panels, pining the bandits to the floor and walls. They parted allowing Viktor and Yuuri through.

Magic, in any form, could drain you. One needed to be careful about how much they used and when they used it or they would end up burning themselves out.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Viktor whistled as one of the vines made a grab for him. Yuuri raised his hand quickly and the vine wilted away to nothing.

“Oh Vitya,” Yuuri said nodding at the door to the engine room. “You could never be on my bad side.”

Viktor placed his hand on the door, ice encasing the steel. It crumbled before him, the fragments of steel were as fine as snow as they stepped over them. Yuuri pulled Viktor against a wall, pressing his body flush against his as he muffled his voice with his hand. He placed a lip onto his lips. Viktor’s gaze was still on his when he pulled away, peeking over the corner.

“Six bandits, three operators,” Yuuri whispered quickly. “They have crossbows and pistols?”

“No swords?”

“It’ll make it easier for us.” He pointed out. “We have magic.”

“We’ll split it up between the both of us,” Viktor said, “Anything else?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Right then.” Yuuri pulls away, twirling his dagger. 

“Oh, and Yuuri?” Viktor tugged him back, wrapping his arm protectively around his waist. Yuuri felt cold sweat dripping down his spine, freezing where Viktor touched him. They were both sweaty they had blood covering their clothes (and now they smelled like coal) but Yuuri stilled leaning into his shoulder, inhaling his scent to keep his nerves from getting the best of him. “Be safe, darling. Please don’t get hurt”

“You too, Vitya.” Yuuri nodded. “But I make no guarantees.”

The both of them could have a touching reunion later where they could sort through their feeling but for now, they had a train to save and some bandits to kill.

They both pulled away, rounding the corner. Viktor threw his hand out, steam turned to ice as it formed a wall between them and the bullets. Yuuri rushed forward, hand glowing green as he tossed one of his daggers. The hilt of the dagger glinted as it stood up from one of the bandit's chest, blood gushing through. Another one tried to cut his head off, he ducked and crouching as he sliced open his thigh. Yuuri stood back up, facing off against the last one. He held a pistol in his hand, trembling as he followed Yuuri’s movements.

“Put the gun down,” Yuuri growled. He raised his hand, the green light bouncing off the walls. He must have looked truly terrifying because the bandit’s eyes widened in fear. “Or else.”

Cleary he didn’t hear the ‘Or else’ part because he squeezed the trigger.

Yuuri felt the bullet brush past his hair before ricocheting off the steel behind him, he ducked crouching and covering his head as the bullet bounced off the walls. He disarmed the bandit, hissing when they elbowed him harshly in his ribs. Yuuri didn’t depend on magic because magic could only do so much.

“You’re being really difficult!” Yuuri snarled, he grabbed his hand, twisting it till he cried out in pain. He sank to his knees. Yuuri spun the gun around, bashing him in the temple with the butt of the pistol. They slumped to the floor unconscious.

Viktor was breathing hard. He looked tired, unlike Yuuri who had an impressive stamina, his magic worked had drained him leaving him open to attacks. Yuuri saw red when the tip of the bandit’s blake, a daunting and cruel looking thing, sliced into his side. Viktor hissed through his teeth, jumping back. Blood oozes through the material of his shirt and onto the coal-dusted floors.

Yuuri saw red. He stepped forward, twisting the hilt of the dagger so that he could cut the man who hurt his Vitya into ribbons.

The bandits were taller than the rest, he had a full foot of clearance over Yuuri. Good, that made him slow and sluggish. Yuuri had an advantage as his arm arched wide, the tip of the cobalt lined blade digging into the black material of his clothes and bringing forth a deep ribbon of scarlet to the surface. Yuuri wasn’t holding back, he lifted his knee sharply. He winced as it made contact with his chin, the sound of bone breaking was never pleasant.

Viktor held onto Yuuri, his sword buried deep into the chest of the bandit before he the tip of his blade could even touch Yuuri.

“Is that all of them?” Viktor asked, pulling his sword out. Blood pooled around him, touching the soles of his boots. His breathing was heavy but he was able to stand, his arm stayed firmly in place.

“Yes,” Yuuri nodded. He felt tired too. The conductors were tied up and gagged, their eyes wide in terror as Yuuri approached. “Where’s the nearest train station?” He asked in a gentle voice, careful not to spook them.

He undid the gags that bore into the corners of their mouths, leaving behind angry red marks.

“Genera, a small city in Helvetia.” One of them gasped. “About fifteen miles out. Once we cross the main bridge, we’ll be close to the city limits.”

“Good,” Viktor said, putting away his sword. “Send word to the station and inform them of our situation. Mr. Katsuki and I will head back to survey the rest of the train.”

The heat conductor, a man well past the age of retirement, saluted aptly. “Yes, Your Highness!”

“Don’t you think that was just a bit too easy?” Yuuri asked as they made their way past the carnage they inflicted upon the train. He eyes the splashes of ice and snow that littered the corridors. “Viktor, something is seriously wrong here.”

“What do you mean?” Viktor narrowed his eyes.

“Didn’t you think it was odd that they started the train when we were trying to get to the front?” Yuuri pushes. “I counted seven in the engine room, we took down six.”

Viktor cursed loudly, his face paling as his hand reaching towards the hilt of his sword. Yuuri and he stood back to back, like two pieces of a puzzle in a very dangerous game. He tightened his grip on the cobalt hilt of his daggers, there was still fresh blood on its blade. Viktor reached back, his hand brushing against Yuuri’s.

The footsteps were faint at first, echoing loudly the closer and closer they got. Yuuri swallowed hard, pushing the sudden bout of nausea back. Viktor went still as mountain air, the temperature around them slowly decreased till Yuuri felt goosebumps erupting on his skin.

Glass exploded everywhere, Viktor pulled the both of them down to avoid being lacerated by the flying shards. Viktors hand curved protectively over his neck and head.

“Shit,” Yuuri looked up.

A man stood in the center of the carriage, dressed differently compared to the other bandits. He didn’t look like a bandit, his clothes were dove grey and well worn. There wasn’t a hint of dust or blood or coal smeared onto the expensive material. His face was obscured by a black cloth that covered the lower half of his face, drawing attention to his equally grey eyes that focused on Yuuri like a predator focused on a kill.

This man was a professional, he was no bandit or thug. 

He lifted his crossbow, aiming for his heart. Yuuri felt dread course through his system. Viktor screamed, turning around as the crossbow bolt released.

“No!”

Yuuri didn’t think, he flicked his wrist, sending the dagger towards the assassin.

Three things happened between the moment the bolt was released for the string and Yuuri threw his dagger.

One, the train jolted violently as if it was breaking apart. Yuuri yelped as his balance shifted. Viktor crashed into him and the floor gave way beneath him. Two, the hitman screamed as the blade of Yuuri’s dagger lodged itself in his shoulder. He lost his balance as well, falling out one of the bolted doors of the train. Yuuri barely registered his scream of agony through the wind that whooshed past his ears as they fell. And third, Viktor slumped over Yuuri, the bolt of the crossbow arrow jutting out of his shoulder like a broken wing.

Yuuri only screamed, clutching Viktor to his chest, his tears lost to the wind and river as they collided with the rippling waves below them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> I regret nothing. 
> 
> Leave a comment down below to express your outrage or hit that kudos button!


	15. Red Chrysanthemum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red Chrysanthemum - A symbol of Love, To be loved and to love in return

He remembers the sound of someone screaming his name and then the wind rushing past his ears as he felt weightless. For a brief moment, he thought he was falling. Yuuri was with him, his screams lost to the wind.

And then he couldn’t remember anything after that.

The only thing Viktor feels when he comes to is the searing pain arising from his shoulder, the cold river lapping at his boots, and the sound of Yuuri crying as he holds onto him to his chest. His hands leave his head taking the warmth as they fumble with a piece of cloth that Yuuri tore away from his travelling cloak. It’s a makeshift tourniquet, Viktor can’t concentrate through the pain. Everything is a strange blur of smells, sight, touch and taste. Viktor hisses loudly through gritted teeth, pain shooting through his body like lightning each time Yuuri tightens the piece of cloth around the girth of his shoulder. He trembles as the aftershocks of pain flow from his shoulder, it takes most of his energy not to cry or pass out.

He can feel the bolt from the crossbow strains against the muscles of his shoulder. With every breath he takes the shaft of the bolt moves, bobbing up and down like a piece of driftwood as blood drips down his back. The material of his shirt and vest are slick with blood that sticks uncomfortably against his skin.

Yuuri whispers his apologies into the crown of his head, his voice strangled with emotion.

He weakly grasps the front of Yuuri’s equally ruined shirt, his fingers leaving behind ruddy colored fingerprints. Viktor feels heavy, waterlogged and lead like when he tries to move his arm to wrap around Yuuri’s quivering shoulders in order to comfort him.

Is this where I die he thinks as looks at Yuuri.

(It wouldn’t be so bad to die in Yuuri’s arms. He could imagine no place better than here.)

He can’t seem to keep his eyes open either no matter how much Yuuri is begging him to. His words buzz pleasantly within his ear but he barely registers them, everything feels like he’s observing his environment through a pair of blurred glasses. It’s disorienting and gives him a dull headache. It feels like fifty pounds dangle off his arm as he raises his other hand to Yuuri’s teary face, his slender fingers grazing over the cold and damp skin pushing aside the strands of hair that obscure his face. Tears mingled with the splashes of blood, pale jewels of pink roll from his eyes cutting lines through the layer of grime and dirt. Viktor smiles faintly, it takes a considerable amount of effort to even move his face and Yuuri’s face twists in return as he bows his head against his shoulder, ducking his face away. Uncontrollable sobs emit from the back of his throat that leaves his body heaving. Yuuri’s words are a garbled apology that breaks Viktor’s heart. He felt his chest warp as Yuuri clutches him like he’s afraid he’ll disappear.

Viktor still thought he was beautiful when he pulls away, another apology falling from his lips.

Yuuri presses his hand over Viktors and turns his face, pressing a messy wet kiss to his palm. His kiss is soft and sweet and tender. 

“Oh my Yuuri……” He whispers weakly. The words come out garbled to his ears but he pushes them out through the slog of discomfort. Even he doesn't know what he's saying. “Please don’t cry, my darling. I’m not going anywhere.”

He buries his head into the crook of his shoulder, deeply inhaling the scent of blood and river water that permeates Yuuri’s natural scent of flowers and earth. It's silent between them, only the sound of the rushing waters and Yuuri's muffled cries saturate the air around them as the sun shifts towards the west at a turtles pace. 

Viktor fights to keep his eyes open, he can see Yuuri's mouth moving and he can't make out the words. It's frustrating. What is Yuuri saying? Is it bad? Is it good? (Is he saying that he loves him Viktor would love to hear that?) All he knows is that it’s Yuuri whose lifting him up, one hand wrapped protectively around his head and the other under the bend of his knees. If this were any other situation (and if Viktor was less delirious) he’d been swooning but all he can do is let his eyelids drift close against his own will. He can’t seem to keep them open no matter how much he tries.

Cold. He feels so cold. He shivers underneath the cloak that Yuuri throws over him, it doesn’t help.

Yuuri’s arms around him aren’t enough, his entire body feels like it’s been encased in ice.

At least Yuuri isn’t crying anymore, Viktor thinks. That some consolation.

He peers over Yuuri’s shoulder, out into the vast fields of wheat and corn that litter the countryside of Helvetia. The mountains are beautiful, cool blue and periwinkle blending into the ugly grey as the sun's rays start to kiss the snow-covered peaks. It’s beautiful but Viktor knows that he could be dying and he’d rather be gazing into the eyes of his beloved rather than another boring yet beautiful sunset. 

He wanted to kiss Yuuri, he didn't know why. Just that he wanted to do it. Th thought just popped into his mind as the sun slipped behind the mountains. They were so close to that before the bandits arrived. Yuuri’s warm brown eyes staring into his, the soft flush of his cheeks, the slight parting of his lips, the undeniable hitch in breath, his weight spread comfortably over Viktors thighs——they were so close. It was frustrating, he felt like he was going mad. The very thought of Yuuri's lips on his only made him more desperate to kiss him. If he was indeed dying and this was his last moments with Yuuri, he wanted to spend it telling the young man how much he adored him and how much he wanted to spend the rest of his days with him.

But he can’t because Yuuri isn’t looking at him anymore and before he knows it, his eyes close as if they had a will of their own. 

 

 

 

It’s takes them a couple of hours to find a shelter, by then the sun had dipped well past the purple peaks of Helvetia and the moon arrives, bearing the brunt of the stars as well as the night. 

Yuuri's back and legs are screaming by the time he spots a small inn at the crossroads of some town is barely lit and there’s no music to be heard which in common in establishments like these, Yuuri briefly wonders if the tiny inn is abandoned before knocking on the door firmly. It’s difficult with Viktor tucked away safely in his arms but he manages.

Several moments later a bleary-eyed innkeeper, a portly man with thick hair who reminds him of his father, opens the door. Yuuri notices the way his eyebrows raise up to his receding hairline, his blue eyes zeroing into in the unconscious Viktor in his arms. Their appearance is…..harrowing at best given how they're covered in blood, grime, and smell like a smoke and dirt.

“Bandits,” Yuuri quickly pushes the word out, a trace amount of venom laced into his voice. “Please, I have some money and my friend is hurt——“ His Helvetia is decent enough, the words are rushed out before the innkeeper can deny them but To his surprise, he ushers them in and closes the door behind them with a solid thump. The innkeeper calls for his wife and several of the servants that work there. One servant with reddish brown hair tries to pry Viktor away from him, Yuuri levels him with a stare that could cut into stone and he backs away. On normal situations, he’d be nicer but this wasn’t anywhere near to normal.

Viktor is taken to one of the rooms, the sheets stripped from the bed so he doesn’t get his blood onto them and Yuuri gently pushes him onto his side. He hangs the blood-soaked cloak on the chair next to the bed, rummaging around in his pockets for something. 

“Is there a healer?” Yuuri frantically asks the innkeeper whose name escapes him at the moment.

“We’re miles away from the nearest town,” He explains as he gently unwraps the hastily blood-soaked bandages and tourniquet. “Even if we were to get to a healer, it wouldn’t be until dawn at the earliest.”

That wasn't good enough.

Yuuri closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in.

The longer the bolt stayed in Viktors shoulder the more likely it would become infected. Yuuri had seen what a small infected cut could do to a man, the results were often terrifying.His bag with the herbs and slaves he bought with him were lost to the depths of the river, and his luggage with his books was left behind. Yuuri would have to rely on pure instinct and his training. He had spent years studying the medical properties of plants as well as documenting and experimenting, Yuuri wasn’t the one to be cocky but he knew what he needed to do. He eyed where the shaft of the bolt dug into his shoulder and passed underneath the ruined material of the shirt Viktor was wearing, a familiar feeling of guilt and remorse bubbles up in his chest but he pushed it down quickly.

He could apologize later.

Yuuri turned to the innkeeper and two of his servants.

“Do you have some honey?” He asks politely. “As well as some Calendula and Yarrow?”

“In the garden,” The servant with reddish brown hair piped up. “We have mint if you need some. I’ll ask the cook for some honey.”

“Thank you.” He offers the boy an apologetic smile. “Do you have a mortar as well?”

Calendula, as Yuuri has learned, is excellent for cleaning wounds as it helps to increase the circulation of wounds as well as heal. It smells strong when mixed with the mint, he winces as he grinds furiously at the plants. He doesn’t have the tools or time to make a salve, so the best that Yuuri can do in such a short amount of time is prepare a tincture. It smells vile, burning his nostrils as it boils before becoming a thick sludge of green goo. Yuuri barely manages to hold his stomach when a wave of putrid smelling fumes hits him. His hands shook like leaves in the autumn wind as he gingerly cut away the layers of Viktors shirt with a pair of worn scissors, exposing his reddened and abused skin of his back to the humid summer air.

His hands stop trembling when he finally tears away the fabric. Yuuri’s eyes widen as his fingers brush underneath his scapula, tracing the skin dyed blue and red, unmarred by time or destiny. 

Blue roses and red chrysanthemums.

Oh god. Oh god, no.

So vivid and sharp that it stands out against the pale skin of Viktors back, fine lines outline the rose that looked like they’ve been dipped into the oceans and the chrysanthemums inked in his blood. It’s so beautiful and well balanced like the mark was meant to be there.

And it was because Yuuri had the same mark just over his heart. He’d stared at it in the mirror with a mix of disgust and hate and anger for years. He knew every detail of the mark; the soft curve of the petals, the pointed ends of the thorns, the way that the leaves surrounded the flowers like a crown.

It was a slap in the face. Yuuri could feel the cruel sting of betrayal and anger pierced the raw remains of his broken heart.

He wants to scream, to cry, to beg the gods to change his fate as he stared at Viktor’s face. Yuuri let out a shuddery breath before squeezing his eyes shut, tears forming in his eyes as he tries with all his might to stop his body from trembling. He bit down on his bottom lip, hard enough till he could taste the familiar tang of blood.

The soul mark sends aftershocks through Yuuri’s body and mind as he works through his pain and naive denial. The words of the prophecy reverberate through his mind like a distorted memory. By the hand of his love, covered in blue and red. He shoves them away as he wraps his hand around the shaft of the body, and pulls out slowly, blood oozing and slithering down over Viktors soul mark like little streams with each gently but firm tug.

Soulmate. Viktor.

Yuuri grits his teeth, pressing a towel against the heated and clammy skin in order to stem the bleeding. He can't afford to be distracted right now.

Not him. Please, not him.

The tincture isn’t applied till after when’s he’s able to stem the bleeding with his firm hands.

Viktor is my soulmate he thinks in a dream-like haze, he feels anguish and self-hatred bend his heart into thorns.

Somewhere in his twisted and selfish soul, he feels happy and just a little smug that Viktor was his. It felt wrong to be happy given the circumstances. Love feels like a painful burden, his soul is like an anchor at the bottom of an unforgiving sea. Yuuri’s mind wonders focusing in on his face when he smiled, the way he said his name, the way he made Yuuri feel like he was cherished. The small glimmer of happiness and joy is squashed when Yuuri pulls himself out of his own reveries of Viktor. He pushes the thought away, more focused on Viktor who laid before him barely breathing and in pain.

Why? Why him? Why me?

It hurts. His heart is a tattered mess, beyond repair and hope when he sits back on the rickety bed. Yuuri’s knees sink into the mattress like iron weights, splotches of dried blood dance across the soft and downy surface like tulips in winter.

Viktor lays on his side, hair matted and limp, no longer shining like starlight. Yuuri doesn’t dare touch him. He knows that he could never leave Viktor now that he knows. The thought only serves to make him feel even numb. With a heavy heart and an equally heavy mind, he steps of the bed and stumbles through the door. The innkeeper and his servant say something but Yuuri barely registers their words, he’s too lost in his own head and no matter how he tries to distract himself, every cell in his body begs him to turn around and go back to Viktor. His thoughts are haunted by the blue and red of the mark painted across his heart like a target. Now that he knows, it feels like a sin to leave Viktor alone but for both of their sakes, he knows that he has to.

In the hallway, enclosed by worn wood and warmed air, he takes a moment to clear his head.t all makes sense now. He hates how everything makes sense; every pull, every touch, every look-----it was all fate. Such a cruel, unforgiving, relentless, dangerous, and wicked fate.

It wasn’t fair!

Why did it have to be Viktor?!

Yuuri only blames himself for not realizing. It not his fault but he feels like he has to shoulder the blame for this. The naturally magnetic pull he felt towards Viktor, the constant thought of him, the desperate need to keep him close; how could he have not seen it?! It was so obvious, wasn’t it? He cups his hands over his ears as the voice of doubt poisons his mind, his finger pulling his hair to the point of pain as his thoughts race and crash against each other like thw waves of s stormy sea. On the night of his twenty-fourth year, he’ll meet his end. The words are as loud as thunder as they bounce off the bony walls of his head.

He doesn’t cry oddly enough. Yuuri is so sick of crying. He can't think, he can't focus. His eyes are as dry as the blood on his hands and clothes, he just feels numb and so, so tired. The world feels like it’s been turned upside down when he leans against a wooden beam, his finger watching over his heart and the mark that signals his imminent death.

Yuuri thought he had more time……..they should’ve had more time.

 

 

 

It feels like he’s drowning as he slips in and out of consciousness. Everything feels hot and unwelcome as cold hands touch him, he shudders at the foreign feeling against his searing hot skin. An inferno blazes underneath his skin and in his bones, shivers rack his body as he curls into the itchy sheets of an unfamiliar bed.

Yuuri.

He wants Yuuri.

Where is Yuuri? Why isn’t he here?

Viktor groans and turns onto his side, his shoulder protesting as he places his weight on it. The bandages are like sandpaper against his skin, it only makes him feel even more irritable. Voices blurred like an unholy melody of voices, smells agitate his nose, his vision is watery and narrowed, and his throat feels tight at the idea of death. He can’t remember the last time he had become so ill, Viktor was the definition of healthy. He didn’t get sick so easily but this felt more like something that buried into the cracks of his soul and festered like an infected wound.

He aches for Yuuri as well. Why wasn’t he next to him? Wasn’t he injured too?

The absence of him left Viktor feeling pathetic and vulnerable, He didn’t care how he looked. He just wanted to know if Yuuri was okay. The last thing he remembered was Yuuri’s face staring down at him with eyes full of remorse and guilt, pale tears falling down his face like liquid silver. It felt like someone was driving a knife through his heart at the memory. Yuuri held him so carefully, sobbing and muttering hapless apologies. He was covered in blood---Viktor’s blood.

It’s a blurred memory, he only remembers feeling tired and exhausted as well as the sight of Yuri’s face.

Noone’s ever cried over him, not even his own parents. People have cried because of him; Yuri, Lilia, Mila but never his mother. She was too strong of a women and too hardened to let her emotions show through, she loved him as much as his father did Viktor was the heir to the throne, He had to learn how to keep a stiff upper lip and bury his emotions deep down till even he forgot about them, in a court that is as unforgiving and cold as winter, emotion, no matter how small, was perceived as a weakness. An unfortunate byproduct of his uncle's court but there was nothing he could do but play to the rules of a dead man and his terrifying legacy.

It’s sickeningly romantic now that he thinks about it: the fact that somebody cared enough about him to shed tears.

He lifted up his hands which were raw and pink, faint scratches decorating his knuckles like badges. Viktor assumed that he must’ve looked like he was in a barroom brawl and had his ass royally handed to him. His muscles felt like harp strings, taut and rigid, especially his arms. Moving them only made him grit his teeth in pain as he shuffled into a position that was comfortable enough so that he could fall back asleep. 

The thing is, he doesn’t remember falling asleep. It just happens. It feels like he’s been plucked from one moment in time and flung into another without his knowledge, Viktor doesn’t even know what day it is. He didn’t even know where he was or who is outside his door or the time. The light from the window indicates that it’s nearly dusk as it travels across his room and his bed, golden rays seep into the wood like honey and lands on Yuuri’s sleeping figure.

Yuuri sleeps upright in a chair, a blanket wrapped loosely around his figure as he dozes. He looks half dead with the dark circles that hang from underneath his eyes, his skin a shade paler, and Viktor notices the bandages wrapped around his hands.

Oh, Yuuri.

What did he do to deserve someone like him in his life?

Viktor feels like spring when he reaches for Yuuri’s hands ignoring the sharp pain as he sits up. The sheets pool around his waist, exposing his sweaty chest to the air of the small room. He clasps Yuuri’s hands in a vice-like grip, desperate for contact as tears gather and fall like rain when he kisses the back of his hand his lips pressed against the bandages. He doesn’t care if he’s crying like a child. Yuuri’s here, that’s all that matters to his delirious and feverish brain.

He bows his head, holding Yuuri’s hand over his heart. Viktor isn’t ashamed of crying in front of Yuuri, he doesn’t care who sees him cry right now because he’s so sick of hiding everything away like it mean nothing when in reality, it means everything to him. There’s just too much to say but never an opportunity to say it.

The only regret he has was that it took a brush with death to bring him to this point!

“I love you.” The words are liberating. The chains around his heart fall away leaving him feeling light when he utters them out loud for the first time. “I love you. I love you so much.” He keeps repeating like a mantra. It’s not how he imagined telling Yuuri but given the fact that he nearly died, it sobered him up. He was tired of waiting and waiting and waiting. Every time he gazed into Yuuri’s eyes he knew that the younger man loved him too but waiting for him was torture. It burned to have him so near but unable to call him his.

“Viktor……” He lifts his head up to see Yuuri looking at him with eyes wide open. Deep pools of amber stare at him with open vulnerability. Viktor feels his heart still in his chest, the moment between them stretches like a chasm.

Yuuri’s lip quivers, his eyes squeezed shut and in a matter of seconds, he starts crying.

 

 

 

Yuuri hates crying in front of other people, he hates it when he lets someone sees his flaws and insecurities out in the open. It makes him wants to curl up and hideaway. But when Viktor tugs him closer, pulling him out of the chair and into his arms, he only holds onto him like a drowning man. He follows limply as he holds back tears, his knees hitting the mattress as he falls into Viktor’s waiting embrace.

His arms feel like a different kind of cage. Yuuri feels safe and protected, loved by this man who looks at him like he’s the sun. Could he really leave? When arms like these hold him close, could he really leave when his thought betray him?

“Oh my darling Yuuri,” He whispers as he holds him. The words twist like a knife. “You saved my life.”

Victor, kind and caring Viktor, was the love of his life but he was also Yuuri's doom, if not now then in the foreseeable future. His twenty-fourth birthday haunted him like a vengeful ghost. The man that held onto him was his doom and no matter how much Yuuri loved him to the moon and back, his mind conflicted heavily with his heart.

He wished Viktor never told him that he loved him.

It just made it harder for him to leave.

Yuuri spent all night tossing and turning, unable to sleep. He mulled over plan over plan, hoping for a way to get Viktor to safety and then leave but instead, he found himself returning back to his side because he didn’t know where else to go. Viktor slept blissfully unaware of Yuuri’s dilemma that left a sour taste in his mouth.

The plan was to tell Viktor he was leaving and that he never wanted to see him again.

Viktor didn't know that they were soulmates. It would break his heart, yes but it was for the best. Viktor would go on to be a great king and Yuuri would go back to Oyeshima. He didn’t know what he would do once he got back home. He assumed maybe he could start writing his book and maybe start working as a healer. The thought was vague but it was a plan, a very flimsy and stupid plan.

But Yuuri knew that it was hopeless when he uttered the words ‘I love you’ to him like it was the only words he knew; he couldn't run from Viktor, couldn't even hide if he tried. Viktor would always find him and Yuuri knew that them being soulmates only complicated matters. They were like magnets, pushing and pulling till they finally came together.

As selfish as a thought it was, they were meant to be with each other.

It was cowardly to run away from Viktor.

He spent his whole life to deal with a threat but how could Viktor ever be a threat to him? How could a man so kind and sweet and caring ever be a threat to Yuuri? He held onto him like he was the sun and stared at him like he was the moon--- like he was everything to him. He didn’t know if Viktor was aware how quickly he had become everything to Yuuri. He wanted to believe that the prophecy could be mistaken but prophecies are never so simple, they mean what they state but the words are so lost and distorted that it’s impossible to know their true meaning until it was too late.

Regardless of how he tried to detach himself, regardless of how he tried to keep his glass heart in check, it had all been in vain. Viktor would always hold a part of Yuuri with him whether he knew it or not

(It wasn’t too late now was it?)

Yuuri pulls away from Viktor, searching his eyes for an answer to an unknown question. He jumped as Viktor cupped his face, using his thumb to wipe away the tears that now freely rolled down his face. His hands were unusually cold. The gesture was so tender and loving, easily barrelling past his thoughts as straight to the remnants of his heart.

“I--” Yuuri wants to pull away, if this continues it’ll just hurt the both of them. His lungs feel coated with a thick layer of lead and his throat is was filled with molasses that trapped the words he wanted to say.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to clear his mind of his anxious thoughts. His face was only centimetres away from Viktor.Mint. Viktor smelled like mint and winter and ice and snow. The familiar scent grounded him for only a few minutes before the storm gathering in his brain whisked him away from reality.

There were so many things he wanted to say but he could find a way to string the words together without sounding like a crazy fool. Viktor’s touch left trails of fire underneath his skin as he patiently waited for Yuuri to say something. There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes and Yuuri never wanted to see it go out.

He loved him.

He really loved him.

Yuuri knew that he’d fight to keep it there.

Would leaving Viktor really ever stop him from loving Yuuri? Isn’t that the reason he left his homeland, to find a way to fight the curse and live on his own terms?! Leaving now would only be a waste of his time and Viktors. He would be a coward for running away when he would've fought for a future with Viktor by his side. Did he really want to give up that future? Wasn’t Viktor’s love worth more than his own insecurities and fears?

Couldn’t Yuuri be brave?

Viktor called his name again, softly pulling him out of his mind with his voice and grounding him in their reality. His eyes were unyielding, he was waiting for Yuuri and he was keeping him waiting.

What more did he have to lose?

The shared the same marks but that didn’t mean they had to share the same fate.

Yuuri loved him. Gods, it was so simple yet he was making it so complicated! His brain was spinning him around in crazed chemical circles while he fought through the anxiety that pooled in the pit of his stomach, focusing on the man in front of him who had easily become his whole world.

He loved Viktor. He loved him with every ounce of his being. He could let himself fall, just this once. Yuuri knew Viktor would always be there to catch him.

Yuuri framed Viktor’s face in his hand, his thumb brushing across his heated skin. The pad of his thumb brushed over his lower lip, his breath was pleasantly warm over his cold knuckles. He could feel Viktor cup the back of his neck, fingers playing with the soft strands at the nape of his neck. Yuuri didn’t miss the way that Viktor shuddered or the way his grip tightened around his waist. It makes him feel like he’s on top of the world when he realized that he did that to Viktor, that he was the only person who would ever see him like this.

“Yuuri……,” Viktor trailed off, eyes wide and cheeks flustered. “My darling, what’s the----” Yuuri surges forward, the walls around his glass heart caving in as he pressed his lips against Viktor's feverishly.

The kiss itself was desperate and consuming, it burns through him like he poured everything he felt into it. Yuuri wasn’t someone who could craft palaces out of words or paint an image with a few cleavers put together sentences, What Yuuri couldn't say, he would show. He had always been a man of action he didn’t care if the world burned down around him, the way he could feel Viktor’s heart through his chest was everything to him in this moment.

Anything the universe could offer would pale in comparison to the way that Viktor kisses him. He sees galaxies behind his eyes, stars wink and dance in pairs as his world spirals into a symphony of colour. His hands carding through Viktor's hair as he breathed him in and Viktor him in place with his cold bandaged hands.

He felt completely enveloped by this man. His heart felt light and fragile as he buried his hand in Viktors silver tresses. He felt himself fall farther, if that was even possible.

Viktor pulled away several moments later with bruised lips and blown out pupils as he laid forehead on Yuuri's. His breaths came out in short pants as he gazed into his eyes, lips curved up in a watery smile that has Yuuri reeling.

"Stay," He whispered hoarsely as he peppered kisses on Yuuri's face, wiping away any remaining tears with his lips. "Please, Yuuri." Viktor pleaded, he didn't care if he looked pathetic. "Please just stay. Never leave my side, darling.”

Yuuri nods mutely, too overcome by emotion to speak as tears flow from his eyes. The smile on his face brightened the room as he lifted up the palm of his hand to wipe away the tears. Viktor kisses him again, weakly laughing as Yuuri’s lips curve underneath his.

Let the world burn. He knows what he finally wants. He wants his future. He wants Viktor. And most of all, he wants to overcome this prophecy and be free.

 

 

 

Viktor wakes up several hours later with Yuuri sleeping peacefully next to him, eyelashes fluttering as he dreams.

He’s drooling onto the pillow, lips parted as he snores softly and ignorant of the world around him. God, he so beautiful. Viktor doesn’t mean to stare as Yuuri sleeps but his eyes greedily follow the curve of his nose and the shape of his lips. He smiles like a fool as he remembers the way Yuuri kissed him. Viktor lays his palm against his cheek, his thumb brushing Yuuri’s bottom lip. It was everything he wanted and more; passionate and sweet and loving and just a small hint of desperation. Viktor swore he felt his heart jump out of his chest, it was like magic. He wanted more and he would never stop craving Yuuri’s touch.

His clothes are folded neatly atop the seat of the chair, blood stairs thankfully gone and the lavender rose resting atop the pile. Did Yuuri remember the rose he gifted him? Did he think him odd for carrying it around like a lucky charm? He wraps an arm around his waist as he thinks and pulls him close, pressing a soft kiss against his eyelids. Yuuri stirred a little, brown eyes blinking open lazily before closing one more as he returned to his dreams.

Viktor could imagine himself waking up to a sight like this every day of his life. Loving this man wasn’t enough, he wanted to spoil him with gifts and kiss him like it was their last day on earth, he wanted to dance with Yuuri in the gardens, he wanted to hold his hand as they strolled down crowded streets, he wanted Yuuri sitting next to him on a throne of silver and sapphire-----the images were as vivid as glass, unfiltered and clear.

So what if they weren’t soulmates? They loved each other more than the will of God and Fate. He and Yuuri were free to choose each other. Soulmates didn’t matter here, and no matter what the world told him, in this dimly lit room with Yuuri sleeping next to him, Viktor knew what he wanted.

He wanted to marry Yuuri.

They had all the time in the world, there was no need to rush. He wanted to spend more time with Yuuri and Viktor would do everything in his power to make sure that Yuuri would be allowed to stay by his side. After these last few days, he couldn’t imagine a life where Yuuri never showed up drunk at his ball and swept him off his feet and into a world of color and laughter and love.

Yuuri didn’t have to say that he loved him. Viktor just knew when he stared into his eyes. It was there, clear as day when Yuuri smiled like the sun and Viktor fell in love all over again.

One day, when Viktor was brave enough, he would make Yuuri a ring of gold to match his eyes and his heart. But for now, he wanted to sleep off the pain of his shoulder and dream of his future together with Yuuri. 

And if possible, tell him everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me forever to write, I'm so happy I finally got it done!  
> It only took them 15 chapters to get to this point!


	16. Balsam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balsam - Ardent Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

“Under no circumstances will you be leaving the palace grounds! We will double the palace guards and cancel all public appearances until you are well!” Galena hisses as she paces the floors of Viktor’s chambers, her cerulean skirts swishing around furiously. Mila stands as close to the wall as possible, looking pale and still. She hardly utters a word as the Queen bristles. "This is unacceptable! I don't understand how----" 

"Mama---"

“Do not 'Mama' me, Vitya!" Queen Galena stops and places her hands on her hips in a put-out manner. "You nearly died, Vitya." 

“Mama,” Viktor groans from the bed. He knows he should take this more seriously but his head feels like a woodpecker made its nest in his skull. His wound throbbed and itched underneath the bandages leaving him feeling irritated. All Viktor wanted to do was sleep for the rest of the afternoon. He felt miserable as he looked. “I came back safely, didn’t I?”

“Barely,” King Anton states stiffly. He sits at the foot of the bed, fixing his son with a look that puts Yakov to shame. Viktor only smiles lightly at his father's expression. “Vitya, you are the future of this house and this country. If you died, we’d be in the midst of a royal crisis. You know that, don't you?”

"Of course I do!" He hisses. 

A sour taste coats the inside of his mouth, Viktor knows how close he came to death and part of his dreads the fact that he could’ve died if it were not for Yuuri. It was stupid of him to use himself as a human shield but he knew that he’d do again because the very thought of Yuuri dying scared him more than his own death. 

Yuuri had become his everything, he looked up him as he was the moon. 

He owes Yuuri his life now, the thought is surreal but he couldn't imagine anyone else's hands to place his life in. If it weren't for him he’d most likely be in some unmarked grave in the Helvetian countryside. Viktor shudders at the thought, the implication of his death would be considered by some as the perfect catalyst for a civil war. This kingdom had seen its fair share of blood and crumbling monarchs, it didn't need anymore. Yuuri did more than just save Viktor's life, he had in some small and unseen way saved his country from a crisis. 

He fears what is parents will do to Yuuri if they knew. Or worse, his enemies. Afterall, he was still a commoner. Viktor being in love with him didn't change that fact, The Nobility Law had its roots that were far too deep. 

Yuuri had to remain a secret for just a while longer till Viktor figured out what to do. He hated to treat him like a dirty secret, it left him with an uneasy feeling. Viktor felt as if he was failing him or worse, disappointing him. There were too many things at play that he couldn't see, and no matter what there was something that was just beyond his reach. An invisible line made by hands more powerful than his toyed with their lives. Whoever this person was, Yuuri wouldn't be safe as long as they remained at large. If anything happened to Yuuri because of Viktor.....he couldn't bear it. No, Viktor would be lost without him, he just could not see a future where Yuuri no longer existed. 

A more sensible part of him argued that seeing Yuuri would be too risky, too dangerous but his selfishness won over him. He needed   
Yuuri by his side, always and forever. 

“I know,” He simply said. “I’m sorry. It was careless and irresponsible of me but I----” Viktor stops himself, he can’t bring himself to utter those next words. 

The King and Queen exchange a look, weary and all too familiar. Viktor braces himself for the words that come. A million scenarios run through his head, each one worse and worse. Had they found out about his correspondence with Yuuri? Or had they found out about his alliance with-----

“Vitya,” His mother starts off softly, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. She walks toward his bed, sinking to her knees as she clutches onto his hand with warm and motherly hands. “You are our son. Our only son. And you’re the Crown Prince as well. I know that you've been deprived of many experiences but you must remember that you have duties to your country and your people, not just yourself.” 

“I know.” He didn’t understand why his mother was reminding him of this. Viktor felt the lingering effect of the medicine in his system, it made things sluggish for him but he was coherent enough. “I’m the Crown Prince of Kievren. How could I ever forget about why responsibilities?” Viktor asks with an accusatory tone. He ignores the sting of anger at the implication of him shirking his duties. He “I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove this to you or do you really listen to those fools who still believe in the formers kings ambitions?”

“We know, Vitya.” The King’s voice is soft, unusually so. His father may have been the king but he was still a father, and he had nearly lost his only son. Viktor was a pathetic sight to behold, pale and sickly looking as if he was on his deathbed, no wonder everyone was giving him pitying looks. But his father looks at Viktor with a sadness in his eyes that feels so out of place. “We know what you’ve given up. Nobody knows as much as we do.” 

His heart burns underneath the layers of bandages wrapped tightly over his shoulders and back. The mark underneath feels like lead pressed into his skin, weighing him down with the reminder that he had had no one. For so long, he mourned for someone who didn’t exist. 

Viktor doesn't dare cry in front of his parents, even if he felt as if he had been trampled under the hooves of a thousand horses or if he felt like his innards were burning like the sun, he stiffens his lip and meets his father's gaze head-on. 

“This was no accident." He said. "Someone tried to kill me."

 

Yuuri feels numb when he walks through town, the slight chill of autumn threatens ruffles his clothes as it goes out towards the sea. Summer persists, unyielding and unshakable no matter how much the trees beg to shed their leaves. He allows himself to bask in the warmth that only summer could provide before the winds of autumn won over. 

This was his last summer after all. He savored what he could. 

The warmth on his skin could not wash away the cold and heavy apprehension that settled under his skin. 

A letter awaits him in his room but he’s afraid of opening it, fearful of the contents that it holds. It had been sitting there for three days and everytime Yuuri places the letter opener into the small opening between the envelope and wax, he stops, terrified for the words that Viktor writes to him. 

Viktor had told him he loved him, begged him to stay close to him and never leave. Yuuri had given whatever remained his heart to Viktor, sealing the promise with a kiss knowing he would have to break it in a few months time. His twenty-fourth birthday signaled near, the final act before the curtains closed. Yuuri only wondered if it would be a quick death or a long drawn out one. If it was some comfert, at least Viktor would be there. 

No, Yuuri silenced that voice. He wouldn't allow himself to linger on such depressing thoughts.

Yuuri wasn’t dreaming when Viktor kissed him back or begged him to stay by his side. He wasn't sure if it was the fever talking or Viktor’s desperation. 

But none of that was what concerned Yuuri, it was a relief to hear Viktor say those words even if it tore his heart apart. It was better to know that he was loved than to die never having known at all. If Yuuri could cast a positive outlook over the comedic tragedy that was his life, this was the one thing he took away: Viktor loves him

And it broke Yuuri’s heart knowing that he’ll hurt Viktor, the thought is even more sickening considering how Viktor will be responsible for his death. 

The thought brings him to tears and fills his heart with joy at the same time. How is it even possible to be so split down the middle and function like nothing ever even happened?

It had only been a week since the incident with the bandits and another week since he found out that Viktor was his soulmate. Two weeks felt like a chasm, it left Yuuri with a gaping hole in his soul that made him consider jumping on the seven o’clock train and take off towards Kievren. 

He tears his eyes from the ocean as he makes his way back as the dark clouds gather above him.

Every step towards Celestino’s manor feels heavy, his footsteps echo loudly as he walks through the narrow alleyways, ignoring the drizzle of rain that splash onto his face. His glasses had smudges of raindrops that distort his view further but he finds that he doesn't care enough to wipe them away. 

His mark burns like the sun, reminding him of his beloved that was miles away from him. Even now, Yuuri could still remember the feeling of Viktors lips on his and the color of his eyes and the way his hands felt intertwined with his. Viktor may have been his death but Yuuri would always long to be near his side regardless of a vast amount of distance between them. And that’s what makes him stare at the walls at night, the thought that he stills wants Viktor because he knows that he’s too deep. 

By the time he’s arrived back at the manor, he’s soaked from head to toe. Celestine hardly makes a remark about the drops of water Yuuri leaves in his wake, he only follows him with pitiful eyes before returning to his book. 

His room is his sanctuary but today it feels like a prison. 

The letter lays atop his desk, bathed in the gloomish glow from his window. The mint plant curls around his chair and his desk, the vine plant intertwining with the mint leaves as if they were welcoming him back. 

He inhales the familiar scent of earth and mint, it grounds him allowing him to clear his mind as he picks up the letter opener. Yuuri’s hand trembles as it slides the tip of the blade into the small slid, cutting through the thick sheet of paper to reveal it’s contents. It feels as if he was committing a sacrifice, in a way he felt uneasy something he never felt when it came to Viktor’s letters. The gold ribbon trapped underneath the red was winks up at him like a jewel. 

Don’t think, He tells himself, Just do what you need to do. If not for yourself….then at least for Vitkor. 

With whatever bravery Yuuri considered himself to have, he snapped the wax and opened the letter, reading the words that stand out in Viktor's distinct handwriting. 

 

_My darling Yuuri,_

_I will start of this letter saying that you are on my mind from the moment that the sun rises till it sets, you are so far from me and my heart feels as if it is no longer with me._   
_The thought is sentimental but that is the truth. I miss you like the moon misses the sun—-silly, isn’t it? To think that you could ever be so incomplete without someone by your side? There have been instances in the past where I thought love was a fruitless endeavor and that all men that experienced it were far more fortunate than I but I now realize that love is not an object to be obtained and kept, it is something that brings beauty to a world that lacks it._   
_Perhaps, I’m allowing myself to be carried away. Yura has called me soft, and he’s right. Bed rest is driving me towards madness but it is your memory that keeps me sane._  
 _There’s nothing to do, these past weeks have been torture. I’m afraid that I’m confined to the palace ground till my mother decides its ‘safe.’ Although, I am shaken by the incident (and being at the foothold of deaths door is no laughter no matter,) but I will not let it deter me._   
_(I fear there may be something at play but I see no obvious questions. I know this may worry you but I trust you. I urge you to stay vigilant, my darling. I know you are skilled at fighting but danger always lurks.)_   
_As for my wound, it has healed but I fear that a scar may remain. Don’t worry, Yuuri. I can feel your remorse through these words. Please don’t allow yourself to mull over my actions, beloved. it was my choice the stand in front of the crossbow and i would do it again if it meant keeping you safe. Reckless, I know but I could never live with myself if anything had happened to you._   
_The doctors have assured me that you did well. The court physician was impressed by your work. You had no idea how proud I was of you—-my Yuuri, so talented and so amazing. You saved my life my love._   
_There’s something I’d like to propose. Christophe came up with the idea actually and it’s rather ingenious—-you see, Helvetia has extended me several invitations to settle trade agreements and Matsumi, Christophe’s dear husband, was inquiring if you would be able to Assist him with his research. The idea is clever but it would allow us to meet. They own a small cottage, not too far from their estate in the countryside. It’s secluded and perfect for us. The only thing that I hate is that it must be done in secret, you must feel cheated and I understand._   
_But I wish to see you again, and I wish you kiss you even more. A few kisses aren’t enough for me and I may be bold to presume that you feel the same. If I could see you again, I’d be the happiest man in the world._   
_Write to me soon, my darling. Your letters give me strength during such difficult times,_

_I love you,_   
_Viktor._

 

It feels like he had been splashed with a pail of cold water, the iciness delving into his bones like a knife as he took in Viktor’s words. 

Bravery felt so distant now. 

Yuuri felt light as a feather but his stomach twisted painfully as his trembling fingers placed the sheets of paper down before he accidentally crushed them. It was like he wasn’t even there, his mind had climbed up the highest mountain leaving Yuuri behind to drown the deepest of rivers. 

The first teardrop fell silently, hitting the surface of the desk. 

He could feel the vine plane and the mint curl around his shoulders, gently brushing against his skin as if they were comforting him. A nearly hysterical laugh emitted from his throat followed by a sob closed around his windpipe. 

Yuuri learned that grief came in waves. Acceptance was as far as the ocean lit horizon but anger and denial were always the worse. Like a large wave crashing over you, drenching with cold dread and filling your lungs mercilessly. 

There was no way to bargain with fate, and if there was, Yuuri would’ve done anything to gain an audience with her. 

Cruel, wasn’t it? 

He had no other choice than to respond. Viktor was waiting and Yuuri didn’t have the heart to keep him waiting any longer. Yuuri knew that his life was limited as his choice, why bother worrying about them when the end was inevitable. 

He wrote a few simple words on the black piece of parchment:

 

_Dear Vitya,_

_I’ll see you soon. I love you._

_Eternally Yours,_   
_Yuuri._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy that I was able to finally get this chapter out. It's like a weight just lifted off my chest. Sorry if I wasn't able to post any new chapters. I was going through a really tough time with this fic and for the past few months, there were times I felt like my work wasn't that good enough or I constantly kept doubting myself.   
> It took a lot of encouragement and support from my friends to keep me going. I'm glad that I was able to get up and keep going because I really don't want to end this fic so abruptly. I intend to see this through! :D  
> I just want to say thank to all of you who were with me all along this fic......it means a lot to me.


	17. Astragalus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astragalus - Comfort, Your presence softens my pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that! Another update!   
> Hopefully, I'll have another chapter out by next week. I have it typed up halfway and I assure you that the plot will advance. Thank you for reading so far.   
> Enjoy!

Summer passes far too quickly for them. 

They spend the last days of the season with each other, carefully out of sight of the press and hidden away in the most unlikeliest of places.   
Helvetia becomes a haven for them, a perfect midway point for them to meet in secret. With the assistance of Chris, they settle into a small set of apartments that are quaint and safely hidden away from prying eyes. It’s there where they drop all pretenses and facades and revel in each other’s companies. Yuuri knows that it’s a brief interlude in their life, no doubt the moment they step out of these rooms they’ll be forced to be nothing more than what the world expected of them. It was painful, like sharp shards of glass woven into the fibers of his beating heart, twisting viciously with each beat. 

Fall will be here soon, Yuuri can feel it in the air and in the trees. The proud oaks trees that provide them coverage show signs of turning, their once rich verde colored leaves shift into dull and muted tones. They blend into the ever blue sky like a distorted painting, swaying gently as the fall breeze threatens to take them over. 

Today they’ve settled for a picnic but Yuuri had scarcely touched his food. 

Viktor is by his side, napping peacefully as Yuuri tucked his face into his shoulder. He plays nervously with the laces of his shirt, undoing and then redoing them as his mind wanders aimlessly in search for an answer. He closes his eyes, inhaling the warm cologne that Viktor wore. It tickles his nose with the sweet scent of spice and winter. 

Yuuri hasn’t cried in days. His tears have mercifully dried, evaporating from his skin as red-hot fury takes over. He glares up at the sky once more, cursing the gods and cursing fate vehemently for doing this. 

Of course, he’s angry. 

He wants to live, he wants to love——he wants to stand by Viktor and never leave. 

Yuuri knows it’s stupid to feel as if your life hung on the shoulders of someone else but as he gazed up at Viktors peaceful face, he could see himself doing impossible feats for the name of love. He knew that he was too far gone for rational thoughts of ideas. The best he could do was allow his feelings to guide him no matter how illogical it was, Yuuri was a man in love and like any other person he was just as human. 

He brushes aside a few strands of Viktors silver hair, gazing up at him with sad amber clouded eyes. Viktor’s skin was pink and warm, freckles adoring his nose and cheekbones like constellations, and his lips were slightly parted and soft looking. Yuuri couldn’t help himself as he pressed a chaste kiss against Viktors, savoring the taste of wine and late summer berries that lingered there. 

Yuuri was a fool but he didn’t care. 

Viktor’s shifts underneath him, humming against his lips as he cracks open his eyes, revealing the sky reflected in his irises. Yuuri can feel the curve of his lips and the rumble of laughter that passes through his chest, he was like a cat purring happily in the sunlight. 

“ _Yuuuuri!_ ” He sweetly calls out his name. He swoops in, stealing another lazy kiss that leaves Yuuri breathless. 

“Vitya,” Yuuri whispers against his lips. “Did I disturb you?” 

“Ah, I love it when you say my name,” Viktor said, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s narrowed shoulders. Yuuri presses in closer to his side, loving the warmth that just rolled off of him. “I could hear it all day.” 

Yuuri snorts. “You’re being unbearably sappy.” 

“Hush, darling.”

“Does your wound hurt?” He asks him, his fingers carding through his hair once more.

“I hardly feel a thing.” 

Yuuri frowns, sitting up. “Viktor.”

“No, darling. I’m fine.” 

He didn’t know why Viktor was being so stubborn about his wound. Viktor hardly lets anyone else touch it, not even Yuuri. 

“Why don't you let me change your bandages?” Yuuri cups his face, forcing Viktor to look at him. He had enough of not communicating properly, it had cost them precious time and with the clock ticking Yuuri wasn't going to allow either of them to waste anymore. His mother once told him that a relationship was like a sun and a moon, he didn’t understand what that meant as a child but now he was learning slowly. 

Things were complicated enough between them. 

“It’s not important,” Viktor tells him. He smiles, it slow and lazy but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Yuuri knows that he’s trying to reassure him but it’s not working. He’s always been the type to worry about the smallest of things, picking them apart and analyzing them to fit the lies his mind creates. 

“ _Viktor._ ” 

“Darling, why is this so important?” He huffs, pulling Yuuri back down. 

Yuuri shakes his head. “It just is. Can’t you tell me, please?” 

Viktor looks at him, searching his face. His hands were still. The silence between them is unsettling, Yuuri hates it and he can see how something gnaws at Viktor. He doesn't want to be a burden, he doesn't want to push Viktor into anything he doesn't like but Yuuri has far too many questions and too little time. 

“It’s my marks,” Viktor finally admits, breaking eye contact. His eyes close, silver eyelashes fluttering gently. “I don’t want you to see my marks. They’re ugly.”

Oh Vitya, Yuuri thinks, It’s already too late for that. Yuuri bites down on his lip, squeezing his eyes shut as he remembers seeing the vivid shades of blue and red covered in blood. It still haunts his dreams, paralyzing him with fear. Revealing your soulmark to someone is generally considered to be romantic, almost holy and sacred. 

Maybe it was for the best Yuuri knew, he could carry this secret for the both of them. Viktor had enough to deal with and Yuuri had no idea when his prophecy would come into play. IT was for the best, that’s what he kept telling himself. 

“It’s pretty.”

“That’s what everyone tells me,” Viktor said, the bitterness in his voice remains. “Two soulmarks instead of one.” He scoffs, it’s a harsh and terrible sound. “Some called me unfortunate, and I agree with them.”

“You never talk about your soulmate,” Yuuri said. He traces abstract shape into his skin, eyes cast downwards as he listens to the steady beat of Viktors heart. Could Viktor hear how loud his heart was beating? 

“You never talk about yours,” Viktor murmurs back. 

Yuuri ignores him.“What do you think about it?”

“About soulmates?” Yuuri nods. “I don’t really care for it. You have no idea how many times I tried to claw my marks off my skin because I couldn't bear the thought that there was no one for me.” 

Yuuri bites down on his lip to the point where he felt pain, although he had never tried to obscure his marks or ruin them, he had thought about while training. It would’ve been easy, out of sight and out of mind but every time he brought the tip of his knife to his collarbone, Yuuri stopped. He couldn't do it, and for the longest time, he thought himself weak for not doing so. 

“Oh?” His chest tightens unbearably, an apology bubbles on the tip of his tongue. “Viktor, I’m so s---”

“Don’t, Yuuri.” Viktor kisses the crown of his head, interrupting him. “Shh, love. Don’t feel guilty. It doesn’t make much sense to me either and I don’t know why I even have these marks,” His expression turns distant and conflicted, Viktors eyes turn to ice like as he glares up at the sky as if it offended him. Yuuri can only watch and listen, knowing all too well how it feels when the world has given you something so unfair and cruel. “Some say that having a soulmate makes things easier but for me, it’s just been difficult. There isn’t a clear-cut answer for me, it’s always a frustrating little mystery that evaded me till I just decided that I wouldn’t worry about it.” He turns back to Yuuri, the ice in his eyes melting as he kisses the tip of his nose. The action is surprisingly gentle despite the tone of his voice. “But who cares about soulmates, darling. I have you, don’t it?” Yuuri should be satisfied with that answer but it nags at him for a strange reason. He can’t really put his finger on it. 

“You do,” Yuuri agrees, forcing a smile on his face. 

“You don't look happy with my answer,” Viktor remarks. 

Yuuri flusters, ashamed that he had been caught. He had to remind himself over and over again that he was practically an open book to Viktor. 

“I don’t want to overstep my boundaries,” He admits. “But I always wanted to know.”

Viktor chuckles, clearly teasing. “Is my darling Yuuri jealous?” 

(Yuuri felt a bout of hysteria descend upon him. Was it possible to be jealous of yourself?)

“Did you look for them?” He asks, peering up at Viktor through his lashes. The question is an innocent one but to Yuuri it means so much, he needs to know. 

“No,” Viktor tells him frankly. He kisses his lips once again, gently nipping at his bottom lip. Yuuri’s bones turn into the constancy of goo as he goes pliant in Viktors arms. The food is forgotten. “If I’m going to be honest, I don’t believe in the idea of soulmates. I will admit it has something to do with my cynicism and my loneliness, but I do believe in choosing who you love. And that is why I’m so happy that I have you. I chose you and you chose me, there was nothing to do with fate or the will of God. Just you and me, and the love we have for each other.” He pulls away, brushing his lips over his eyelids. “I’m just sad about the fact that it took me this long to find you. Now, I realize that I’m the luckiest man in the world.” 

He promised himself not to cry while he was here, he just wanted to remember these last few days pleasantly but the happiness in his chest cannot be contained as he hears Viktors words. It’s enough to make him forget about his worries for a moment's time. 

Yuuri feels even worse now. 

He thinks what a terrible person he is for not telling Viktor; he promised himself to tell Viktor everything but he just can’t. Every time he tries to open his mouth, he feels his throat close up, forcing the words down. 

Viktor deserves to know the truth. 

It’s only August, he has until November to find a way to stop the prophecy from happening. Until then, Yuuri will have to live a lie and deal with the consequences of his actions. 

Soon, he keeps telling himself. It’s a lie. 

“Vitya,” He chokes out. 

Viktors face is a blur when his lips crash down onto Yuuri’s. His eyes flutter closed and he wraps his arms around his neck. It’s not chaste or sweet as their previous ones, Yuuri can feel how raw and passionate it is as Viktor rolls them over till Yuuri is on his back. He breaks the kiss, breathless as he gazed up at Viktor. 

The sun is hidden behind the halo of his hair, Yuuri finds that he cannot breathe for a different reason entirely. 

Gods, he’s so beautiful. He cups his face, rubbing the pads his thumbs across his cheekbones as he stares up into his eyes. He doesn’t miss the way that the sky kissed eyes darken like a tempest when his thumb brushes his lower lip, lingering there a few seconds longer as he feels the hot puffs of air that separated them. 

“I love you.” He said softly as if it was a secret, tears falling freely from his eyes. Yuuri really should stop crying, he feels as if he’s ruining the moment with his sentiment. “Gods, Vitya. I love you so much. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love you.” 

“And I you,” Viktor whispered back to him, his voice light as if he couldn’t believe he had uttered those words. He’s smiling like a fool above him. 

They kiss likes it’s their last day alive: desperate, wanting, and completely ravenous for each other. It’s the closest thing Yuuri will even come to be truly intimate. Their kisses turn bolder and their touches are attentive, more wanting, and more eager. An eager swipe of his tongue has Viktor open his mouth, taking him in as Yuuri clutches the fabric of his shirt. He’s so lost now, hopelessly so. Yuuri couldn’t imagine his life without Viktor in it. 

Viktors hands slide down his body till the nestle underneath his shirt to touch the bare skin of Yuuri’s chest. His colds hands leave goosebumps on his skin as they rake his shirt up further. It takes a considerable amount of control for Yuuri not to moan into the kiss, he finds his thoughts drifting away into the new territory that is unfamiliar to him. 

Yuuri nips at Viktors lips none too gently eliciting a growl that settles directly in his gut. His hands undo the laces of Viktors shirt clumsily, exposing the sharp collarbones and the upper part of his chest which are flushed pink. 

He won’t lie, it’s not the first time he’s thought about how Viktors skin would feel on his or how much he craved Viktors touch. Especially in these last few weeks. 

Viktor descends upon his, his lips pressing kisses down his neck, settling over his pulse point. Yuuri feels the slight scrape of teeth followed by the warm wet feeling of his tongue caressing his skin. An inhuman sound escapes his lips before he can muffle it, he learns to stop caring as soon as he finds that he enjoys Viktors lips lavishing his neck and chest with kisses. 

It takes an insane amount of rationally to break away from Viktor. Yuuri’s notices his hands are covered in torn up blades of grass when he brings them up from where they clutched haplessly at the ground. 

He hooks his leg around his hips and heaves, flipping them over. Viktor lands on his back, his hands wrapping around Yuuri’s waist. Yuuri stares down at Viktor who looks up with him with wide eyes, awe present in his eyes. 

“Sorry,” Yuuri squeaks. He swoops down picking his lips softly before pulling away. “Too much.” 

“Did you not like it? I’ve been told I can be a bit too forward sometimes.” He smiles up at Yuuri sheepishly, pink coloring his cheeks. Yuuri doesn’t miss the way his grip tightens around his waist. “Forgive me, darling. I get carried away sometimes, especially when it comes to you.” 

“No, you’re fine….It’s just….” Yuuri clears his throat, sitting up. His face is red, he quickly covers them to hide his face. “That was too fast.”  
“Did I overwhelm you, darling?” Viktor asks breathlessly, pulling Yuuri’s hand from his face and entwining their hands together. “I promise to control myself next time. If you don’t like it, you can just tell me to stop next time.” He smiled mischievously. “Although, I will admit that your strength is quite alluring and I’m not at all adverse to it.” 

“Shameless,” Yuuri deadpans, trying to hide the laughter that threatens to bubble up from his throat. 

“Yuuri!” Viktor pouts. “So cruel my Yuuri is.” 

“It’s so easy to tease you,” Yuuri reassures Viktor, carding his fingers through his hair. “I love you.”

“And I, _you_ ,” Viktor whispers before kissing him again. 

 

 

Chris is hardly what you can an ideal man. His husband would gladly disagree, after all, he’s married to him. 

“It’s lovely,” He recants, enjoying the sunlight on his skin. “Don’t you think so, Chris?” 

“Are we talking about you or the weather?” Christophe asks, plucking a flower from one of the shrubs and offering it to his husband. He had the gall to sound indifferent about too which only made more amusing. 

“I fear you’ll never stop comparing me to the flowers in our gardens.” Matsumi rolls his eyes. “Even if I was old and grey, you’d still compare me to a spring rose.” 

Chris turns to him, a smile full of mischief on his face. “Now you’re getting it.” 

“Where are your guests?” 

“Most likely kissing behind one of the trees or swimming naked in the pond,” Chris shrugged, oddly calm about the fact that the Crown Prince of Kievan was somewhere on his estate romancing around with a commoner. Most would raise a few eyebrows at the idea but Matsumi had been in the same position before, he could only smile and hope for the best. Not everyone was as fortunate as they had been. But then again, not everyone had someone as powerful as the Queen of Helvetia on their side. 

“I’m surprised they haven’t fallen into bed yet,” He muses, his tone light. “They remind me of us when we were younger.” 

“Only we didn’t wait until our marriage night.” 

Matsumi scoffs.“Not that.” 

“Then what, my dearest husband?” Chris asks. He presses a kiss to his cheek, whispering into his ear till he turned red as an apple. “The constant sneaking around or the intense sessions that went well into the night or perhaps you’re talking about the times where we disappeared into the mountains and----”

“I meant the law.” 

“Oh,” Chris said with obvious disdain. “The Nobility Law, or as I like to call it, the most archaic law to ever exist.” 

“Does His Highness know?” He hears a sigh, forlorn. Chris has a pitying look in his eyes, his lips pulled into a scowl that is misplaced on his face. 

“Of course he does,” Chris said, bitterly. “I just worry what he’ll do about it.” 

“Kievren isn’t as kind as Helvetia.” 

“No, it isn't but,” He turns to look at him, “But people in love will do stupid things to be with the person they love the most. Prince, King, God, whatever. It doesn’t seem to matter and I fear that His Highness knows that well enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank to everyone who commented and clicked the kudos buttons for the last chapter. I'm sorry that I was not able to respond back to some of you but I just want you to know that your encouragement and support really helped me through a tough time. I feel so happy and I hope to update regularly.


	18. Red Tulips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red Tulips - eternal, undying, or true love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did a write about 9K of fluff and other stuff just out of sheer indulgence? Yes. Yes, I did. I just want my boys to be happy.

Yuuri watches Viktor sleep with half-lidded eyes. Their hands remain clasped tightly together, warm to the touch underneath their shared blanket. It was as if he was afraid that Viktor would be swept away by the wind and rain outside. The brief flash of lightning illuminates his face, bathing the unnaturally beautiful angles of his face in the same shade of silver as his hair. 

He feels weary, deep in his bones. It's the type of weariness that lingers and burns, you can only resign yourself to it rather than fight it. 

Viktor sleeps peacefully despite the thunder, eyelids fluttering as he dreams unaware of Yuuri's mind trying to consume itself from the inside out. Yuuri reaches out with a slight tremble in his fingers, tentatively brushing his bangs aside as his caresses his face. He wonders how he could be so fortunate to have Viktor in his life, even if it was only for a brief amount of time. Yuuri knew that nobody would see this side of Viktor; this was only for him and him alone, the thought alone made his heart thump loudly against his ribs.

Yuuri leaves in five days time back to Calabria, these next few nights would be their last together before they were pulled back into their respective roles and they would only have each other's letters as a substitute for the other. It was a mutual agreement that the letters would continue, nothing else would change except for the fact that they agreed to meet each other every two to three weeks in Helvetia. 

Yuuri's heart grew heavy knowing that he would have to wait weeks before he saw Viktor again. 

So while he still had the chance he etched every single detail of his face into his mind; the light curve of his lips, the pale moonlight eyelids, the flash of silver wrought upon by the lightning, the highlight of his cheekbones as the gaslamps flickered throughout the room---Yuuri found Viktor even more beautiful at this moment, safe and sound in his arms. He would miss holding him in his arms, the lingering scent of Viktor would eventually fade from his clothes and his lips would forever be stained by he kisses he received from Viktor, eternally craving. 

Yuuri didn't know it yet but he was already mourning.

He willed himself to close his eyes but sleep had forsaken him for tonight. Turning onto his side, he huffed softly and tucked his head into the crook of Viktor's neck seeking warmth.

It felt strange to share a bed with someone.

At first he had decided that they would sleep in two different rooms, as most unmarried couples were privy to but as usual, Yuuri was automatically drawn to Viktor like a moth to a flame and somehow he had ended up in Viktor's bed without meaning to. The moment their heads touched the pillow, they only stared at each other, bodies stiff and breathing stilted until Viktor started giggling for some reason. Yuuri soon followed, his body automatically relaxing into the soft cloud-like bed.

Yuuri admitted he had been anxious about sleeping in the same bed, ducking underneath the covers to hide his face.

Viktor merely laughed, diving underneath the covers and lifting Yuuri's face from the pillow. "But why, darling?" He had asked. "We've shared a bed before. Don't you remember the night we spent at the inn together?"

He tried not to think of that night when Viktor was only steps away from death's doorstep, it had been simultaneously the best and the worst night of his short life. Yuuri knew that it would haunt his dreams till the day he died, never would he imagine himself of being rid of that fear.

"Vitya," Yuuri smacked him gently on the arm. "Don't phrase it like that."

"Like what?" Viktor said, feigning innocence.

Yuuri had shared a room with Phichit but sharing a bed was something completely different. Now, Yuuri could feel every breath and could feel Viktor's heartbeat echoed through their chests, the sweet and calming scent of Viktors cologne flooded his senses and brought him under a spell. Their limbs were tangled together, Yuuri liked the way that Viktor slotted into his arms, laying his head in his chest and curling up as close as he could. Yuuri loved it, even if he was trapped underneath Viktors body and his arm had gone numb sometime during the night. He was a prisoner but he didn't seem to mind it very much, as long as he could gaze at Viktor like this it was worth it.

(Viktor could sleep through anything it seemed, Yuuri envied him for that.)

Viktor murmured something in his sleep, it sounded like Yuuri's name. With a small groan, he shifted slightly, his arms curling around Yuuri's waist and pulling him impossibly close and pulling the blanket closer around himself. He could feel a warm hand lift up his nightshirt and slither up his back. Viktor dragged his palm to settle right between Yuuri's shoulder blades, gently rubbing circles there. The touch was calming, Yuuri felt like almost purring.

Yuuri liked this, when Viktor touched his bare skin, he felt like a live firecracker about to explode.

The late summer heat was bearable, the cotton covers they had draped over them were breathable and Yuuri was thankful. If Yuuri has been anymore awake, he'd either squeak or sweat profusely due to his nerves. Or if he was truly embarrassed, he's tumble over the side of the bed in his haste to disentangle himself. 

(Maybe the ground would be cooler to sleep on?)

"You're still awake?" Viktor grumbled, his voice groggy and sleep-addled. His eyes opened slowly, the blue of his irises aglow in the low light. Yuuri stared into his eyes, memorizing the way his pupils dilated and swallowed up the remained of the blue. "Is it morning yet?"

"I can't sleep," Yuuri admitted. He leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his chin. "Go back to sleep, Vitya."

"Ah," His hand stilled all of a sudden before withdrawing away. "What's on your mind, Yuuri?"

Yuuri sighed, "Nothing is wrong, Vitya."

He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands growing cold despite the warmth. _Even if I could tell you right now, right here---how? Would you run from me? Would you hate me? I don't know, and I'm too scared to ask._

"Yuuri." Viktor exhaled sharply, his tone taut with what he assumed was frustration. He felt Viktor shift under him, and then the sensation of his hands as they cupped his face. Yuuri's eyes remained close, apprehensive about what he would see when he opened his eyes. "Please, don't pull away from me now, darling. I know when your mind is heavy with your thoughts."

"I just don't want to leave you yet," Yuuri finally said. It was neither a lie or a truth, but something in between and only Yuuri knew the implication of those words. He didn't waste his time one crying, it was easier to bottle his emotions up but tonight he could feel them swirling through his chest and cutting him open. His eyes didn't water, they remained dry as the dessert but pain could be expressed in other ways. "I'm not ready to go, Vitya."

_I'm not ready to die, I don't want to leave you alone. I can't bear it. I love you, I love you, I love you---_

"Oh my darling Yuuri," Viktor sighed, he chuckled silently and leaned in to press a kiss to the crown of his head. Yuuri leaned into him, his forehead pressed against his collarbone as he inhaled deeply, his thoughts spiraling out of control. "We'll see each other soon. I promise."

"I know! It's just...Viktor I---" Yuuri took a deep breath and held it before releasing it slowly. He opened his eyes, knowing how his eyes reflected his frantic fear.

Could Viktor see it too?

His own voice sounded strange to his own ears, it took him a second to realize that he was trembling. "I missed you. I missed you so, so much that it hurts sometimes. You're in front of me but I feel like you'll disappear if I look away from you. The days after you went back to Kiev Ren, I couldn't sleep because I kept dreaming that I'd wake up and the first thing I would hear was that you had died without me there by your side. It was awful, And I kept dreaming about it over and over. And, Vitya, I----"

"Yuuri," Viktor hushes him softly, just letting Yuuri clutch his shoulders. "I know, darling. I know. Every single moment from you feels like I'm drowning in that river all over again. This past month without you was torture." He holds him, his actions are uncertain as well as his words but he continues to speak. "But.....if I remember correctly, I wouldn't mind throwing myself into a river if that meant you would kiss me again."

Yuuri freezes, pulling away. "Was that supposed to be a joke?"

"Yes?" Viktor answer, uncertainly. "I'm not very good at comforting people." He winces, "Sorry, darling. I'm still half asleep."

"It's terrible." Yuuri laughs, feeling some of the tightness abate from his chest. "And don't worry, Vitya. I'm not good with handling my anxieties and there are times I'll let my doubts get the best of me."

"I know." Viktor smiles softly, "Tell me something. Do you trust me, Yuuri?"

"Yes," Yuuri answers back without hesitation.

"No," He shakes his head, his smile is incredulous. "I mean do you trust completely: mind, body, and soul? Would you trust me with your life?"

"Vitya---"

"Do you, darling? Please tell me."

"I do."

"Then listen to me," Viktor told him solemnly. He kisses Yuuri, soft and slow, lingering against his lips before pulling away. "I will never allow anything happen to the both of us, I promise. I'm yours, remember that. Nothing can tear you or me away from each other, not even fate," He whispers against his lips. "I know that you're afraid that I'll leave but I want you to know that I refuse to go anywhere without you there by my side. You did promise me that you would stay by my side and never leave."

Yuuri can only smile sadly. "Do you really believe that?"

"Yes. A promise is a promise." Viktor answers with confidence, his eyes burn with an unknown determination that Yuuri wished he possessed. "I love you so much. I don't I'll ever love someone as much as I love you. It scares me sometimes but I will never regret falling in love with someone as wonderful as you, my darling."

"You're going to make me cry, Vitya," Yuuri said, feeling the familiar sting of tears. "My lover is so sappy."

"Lover?" Viktor practically beams. "Oh, I like the sound of that."

"Embarrassing too." Yuuri deadpans. "And far too dramatic."

"Yuuri!"

"Go back to sleep, Vitya." Yuuri whispers, tugging Viktor back down to the comfort of their pillows. He grabs the discarded corner of their blanket and carefully tucks it around them before laying down. He's met with bright blue eyes, amused by the red highlight of his cheeks. "Aren't you sleepy?"

"No," Viktor shakes his head, his closed lip smile forming into a full-blown grin. "You?"

"Not really." Yuuri shrugged. "What?"

"Well.....I'm a little hungry."

Yuuri snorts, "Really, Vitya?"

Viktor winks, sitting up quickly. He reaches for his dressing gown, wrapping it around himself before pulling Yuuri out of bed. "Do you suppose the cooks are awake?" He asks, slipping on his slippers.

"At this hour?" Yuuri rolls his eyes, _allowing_ Viktor to pull him out of bed.

He would much rather sleep but his stomach had other ideas. 

"Then we'll just have to be quiet, darling." Viktor wraps his arms around his waist, walking to the door. He kisses the spot behind Yuuri's ear, whispering gently against the heated skin: "I don't think Chris will mind if we helped ourselves."

Yuuri rolls his eyes, the feeling in his chest lingers there like a rainstorm but he forces himself to ignore it. There are far better things to focus on that his own doubts and insecurities. He decides, in the silence of these halls, that he must really love Viktor if he was willing to be taken out of bed and go looking around the kitchens pantries for a late night snack.

 

 

Viktor finds Helvetia beautiful in the late summer, the small town near Chris's estate is even more so, teeming with energy regardless of the sun that bears down onto its clay tiled roofs almost brutally. It was a beautiful day and Viktor didn't want to waste it hiding behind the walls of the estate, he swore he'd go insane if he had to walk through these gardens again. Yuuri and he needed to get out, to clear their heads and enjoy their small vacation. After their late night conversation, Viktor wanted these next few days to be nothing but perfect and he would do everything in his power to ensure that Yuuri could forget his worries.

He wanted to pry, to pull back the layers of pain and fear that Yuuri hid his secrets behind. But Viktor was still new to the idea of a relationship, even he had secrets from Yuuri. Things would take time till Yuuri would reveal what lay hidden in his dark eyes. It would take time as all things would, so Viktor would remain patient and wait as he had usual did. Viktor knew that something tugged at Yuuri's soul, like a festering wound it brought the worst of his fears to light. Last night Viktor could only hold Yuuri and listen as he trembled in his arms, he felt so useless, so helpless. He wished he could banish whatever plagued Yuuri, but he was only a man. All Viktor could do was reassure Yuuri of his love despite what the demons in his head told him, show his love and support in the smallest of ways. 

Chris had offered his coach in vain when Yuuri had asked to go down to the town during breakfast, Viktor was quick and suggested they walk in order to get some fresh air rather than confine themselves to the stuffy compartments of a coach. It was an added benefit too, considering how Viktor wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

There had been no press to disturb them, no affairs of state to bog him down with paperwork. Viktor had time to simply be himself without his crown bearing down on him, he was free.

He was practically floating on cloud nine. With Yuuri here, he might as well be soaring through the sky too.

Chris had objected when he said he and Yuuri would go alone. Even if Viktor was his friend, he was still the Crown Prince of Kievren. If anything happened to him during his stay here, Chris would take the brunt of the responsibility for getting injured.....or worse.

If only he could ask Mila to accompany them but sadly she was not here. She had other issues at the palace that required her attention. Viktor had left her a single order, a pressing matter that needed her attention above all else. As much as he wanted to assist her in that regard, the redhead had practically shoved him through the door demanding he not do anything stupid while he spent time with Yuuri. She wasn't wrong, Viktor desperately needed a vacation. After nearly dying and battling bandits, he deserved it.

They reached a compromise; Chris supplied two of his best guards who would follow Yuuri and Viktor while dressed as civilians.

Yuuri was okay with the idea, Viktor was not.

Yuuri, sweet and kind, Yuuri had agreed without a moment's hesitation out of concern for Viktor. He didn't mind that Yuuri was clingy or overprotective of him, he liked it. But did they really need personal guards? They were more than capable of taking care of themselves, Yuuri had proven twice over how exceptional he was when it came to fighting, with or without the assistance of magic. Viktor had been training and honing his skills since he could walk.....but still, he could understand the hesitance Yuuri had. Anything could happen to them. They were only human after all.

Viktor learned that lesson a little too thoroughly,

He loved spending time with Yuuri, he loved hearing his voice and kissing him and holding his hand as they walked; now with someone breathing down their necks (and yes, Viktor was aware it was for his own safety), he could only watch. It was the worst kind of torture to have the person you loved the most so close yet so far away. He could only pout like a child as he followed a step behind Yuuri as two men in ill-fitting clothes and stern faces trailed them like ducklings before disappearing the moment they entered the small town.

The town was idle in the morning, people trickling in and out slowly as Yuuri led him to the town square. 

"It's quiet," Viktor remarked, nearly tripping over a loose cobblestone. "I thought the summer festival was today? Shouldn't it be.....louder?"

Yuuri giggled, a sound Viktor was quickly falling in love with. He squeezed his hand gently as they turn a sharp corner. "It's a farming town, Vitya. The festival happens towards the evening when the sun isn't trying to burn you into a crisp, the day is spent setting up and swindling tourists to buy things."

They walked around town, admiring the buildings. Several people passed them, some were foreigners passing through and other were the locals who were kind enough to send a pleasant smile their way. Viktor easily struck up a conversation with an old woman who sold flowers in a basket when he noticed the large array of tulips she sold. 

"Such a lovely couple," She cooed, reaching out to pinch Yuuri's cheeks. Viktor could only beam, pride filling his chest as he wrapped his arms around Yuuri and kissed him on the cheek despite his flustered protests. "When's the wedding?"

Viktor could feel Yuuri freeze, his shoulders taut underneath his hands.

"We haven't decided yet!" Viktor said, his smile growing wider at the thought of marrying Yuuri. "It's far too soon and I'm yet to meet my darlings parents to get their blessing."

"That's a pity, I have a son who is your age and refuses to marry. Don't be like him and have plenty of grandchildren while you still have time." The old woman said as he reached into her basket. "It's not much but I wish you two the best of luck and may your lives be as fortunate and long-lasting as these flowers."

Two bright red tulips were offered to them, the petals soft and velvet like in the mid-morning sun. They were striking, like they had been dyed in blood and born anew. He knew that these were fesh, their frgrence lingered in the air. 

Yuuri took them with shy hands and held them to his heart. "Thank you," He said softly, the red in his cheeks remained from her pinching. "They're beautiful."

"Think nothing of it," She waved away any attempt of Viktor paying her, instead she smiled kindly. "Do you know what red tulips mean, young man?"

Viktor bit his lip, he had never really kept up with the secret language of flowers. "Happiness?" He tried, wincing when the old women chuckled at his attempt. "Or not...."

"Love," Yuuri said, turning around to look up at Viktor. his smile was watery but his eyes were blooming with the happiness that Viktor felt. "They mean true love."

They quickly said their goodbyes, Yuuri thanking the women profusely for the flowers as Viktor waved goodbye. He turned around once more to wave goodbye but the women was gone, the place where she once stood was empty. Not even the scent of flowers remained, only the breeze of freshly cut grass and smoke from the chimneys.

"Viktor?"

"It's nothing, darling," Viktor said, smiling to himself. "Which way to the town center again? I think we're lost."

The marketplace in the town square was lively, bustling with activity for the summer festival. By tonight, there would a bonfire roaring in the center of the town square with music and dancing. The townsfolk hardly gave Viktor a glance thanks to the large straw hat he wore over his head, they were too busy selling something or placing logs on the pyre to care. Yuuri stood next to him, calmly weaving his way through the crowd as he visited stall after stall, admiring the trinkets and food they offered. He was like a puzzle piece, natural as he slotted himself into the busy scene of the marketplace with ease.

Yuuri didn't need a disguise or a ridiculous hat like Viktor to fit in, he belonged no matter where he went. Viktor wished he could fit in as easily as Yuuri could, it would make his life a lot easier if he didn't have to worry about his hat everytime he leaned in for a kiss.

He could smell the sweet scent of candy apple and pies wafting through the air, sweet dried meats and pork made his stomach grumble despite the fact that he had breakfast. Yuuri only smiled when Viktor mentioned how delicious the caramel covered apples looked, he marched up the vendor gladly buying two of the sweet and mouthwatering treats before walking back to Viktor.

(Was it possible to fall in love with someone all over again just because they bought you food?)

They settled near the fountain, perched precariously on the edge as the cool mist of the fountain washed over them. It was getting hotter now, the cool fog that had provided them cover from the sun was no longer there. Some of the townsfolk disappeared into the tavern or lingered in the shaded areas, the vendors were wise enough to have their own awnings so that they could continue to sell.

For once, Viktor was glad that Chris forced him to wear this ridiculous hat. The brim was wide enough to hide them from the sun even if they had to huddle close together.

"Hey, Vitya?" Yuuri said as he laid his head on Viktor's shoulder.

"Yes, darling?"

Yuuri turns his head, pressing his nose against his neck and inhales deeply. "What you said to the woman earlier, did......did you mean it?"

"About asking for your parent's blessing?" Yuuri nods absently. "Of course, I did. It's the proper thing to do, isn't it?"

"You want to marry me?" Yuuri asks him, in a teasing manner. "You would really marry someone like me?"

"Someone like you? You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Yuuri! You're amazing!" Viktor takes one more bite of his apple before tossing the core away, his hands are sticky so he can't touch Yuuri but he does lean in to place gentle kisses to his face. "I'll tell you a secret darling. Don't laugh at me," He said once he pulled away. Yuuri lifts his head, eyes lazy and liquid, and his smile makes his heart melt in his chest. Gold light trickles through the holes in Viktor's hat, dotting his face in gold-flecked freckles that match the gold bands of his eyes. "I wanted to marry you for the longest time."

"I did too," Yuuri tells him, his face melting into an expression of adoration. "You have caramel on your face."

"Oh?" Viktor lifts his hand up to wipe away the caramel but his hands are also covered in the sugary substance, he only stares at Yuuri with pleading eyes. Yuuri giggles at his plight, finding it adorable when Viktor pouted. "Yuuri!"

"So unprincely," Yuuri muttered, lifting his hand up to wipe away the caramel. His thumb brushed Viktor's bottom lip, smearing the caramel. He looked up and Viktor felt frozen, his lips tingling as he watched the pupils of Yuuri's cognac-colored eyes expand until the gold bands of his eyes were forced into thin circles. It was like watching a cat hunt its prey and Viktor could hardly breathe when Yuuri looked at him with such a hungry expression.

He didn't know who moved in first, but it didn't matter when the taste of caramel and Yuuri burst onto his tongue. Yuuri grabbed the hat, clumsily bringing it down to give them some much-needed privacy as he kissed Viktor fiercely within an inch of his life. Viktor grabbed his waist, nearly pulling Yuuri into his lap. He didn't seem to give a damn that they were in public or that he was making an utter fool of himself. Yuuri parted his lips for him, drawing Viktor in slowly. Like a starving man, Yuuri deepened the kiss with the slight tilt of his face taking what he wanted and Viktor let him.

With a gasp, Yuuri pulled away. Viktor chased him, pecking his lips softly before Yuuri pushed him away. His eyes were darker now and Viktor felt like he was drowning in the midnight black depths. He licked his lips, eyes still fixed on Viktor.

"Sweet," He proclaimed with a wickedly devastating smile.

Viktor gulped and buried his face in the material of Yuuri's chest.

"So unfair!" He whined, smiling like a fool. "Why are you so gorgeous?"

"I'm glad that someone thinks so," Yuuri hums, disentangling himself away from Viktor. "I'll back soon."

"Tired of me already, Yuuri?" Viktor teased, tightening his hold on Yuuri. 

"Never," Yuuri breathed, lifting their entwined hand to his lips. His lips linger near Viktor's ring finger as if he were silently promising something. Viktor sighed, melting bonelessly against Yuuri. He might as well be swooning like some poorly written heroize out of one of those trashy novels that his mother enjoyed. "There's something I need to do. I promise I'll be back."

"I do my best to stay out of trouble, my love." 

Viktor wanted to kiss him one more time but he held back, they had already scandalized themselves enough as it were. 

Yuuri slinks off, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and Viktor can only watch as he says through the crowd with a new air of confidence that leaves him a little week in the knees. The caramel on his hands remain must to his disdain, he washed his hands off in the fountain thankful for the cool water against his skin. Kievren isn't this hot in the summer, but in Helvetian, it feels as if the sun was trying to devour you. He wasn't made to withstand the intense heat being adept in ice magic and all.

Maybe the hat did have practical purposes even though it was a stain upon fashion.

He gets up eventually, hopping off of the fountain and weaving in and out of the small shops that charmingly line the streets. He notices several couples gaze into the windows, just standing outside to admire the fine and expensive things before moving on. Viktor never really understood the appeal of window shopping, he knew people (especially couples) did it out wish fulfillment. Being a crown prince, his doors were always open and whatever he wanted would be presented to him on a silver platter, it was no way to live but it was what it was.

The common life had just as much appeal as the royal one. If he had been born a commoner, he wouldn't have to worry about the Nobility Law or soulmates. He could've married Yuuri and nobody would have an issue with it but sadly, Viktor had been born in royalty (and he was very much grateful for the opportunities that it provided him) as well as the power that came with his title. 

(If nobody was willing to change the world then at least Viktor had the right too, what else would he use his power and influence on? War? Riches? Women?)

As he browsed through a small trinket shop, he wondered what he would've done with himself if he had been born a commoner. Would he have worked in a small shop like this in some small town, join the army, become a farmer?

He also wondered if he would possess magic. His brand of magic came from his family, almost every member of his family had been gifted in one way or another; his mother had a good sway over emotions while his father had the similar brand of magic as he did. Yuri had taken to fire, even his father had been gifted.

Viktor never knew what his uncle's gift was, it had always been one of those things that nobody wanted to mention. It made it even more obvious that whatever his gift had been must have been malicious or terrifying.

"Are you looking for a present for your sweetheart?" A shopkeeper asked him in Helvetian, jolting Viktor out of his thoughts. He nods at the dainty gold necklace that hung in front of him, gleaming with sapphires and pearls. It beautiful and would make a lovely gift for Yuuri but Viktor found it too _much._ "It's a bit pricey but that necklace would make a wonderful engagement gift."

"Ah, no. Thank you though," Viktor stutters. He lets go of the necklace, letting it swing back and forth as he grabs his hat preparing to leave.

In a glass case, gold rings twinkle in the fading daylight. The gold bands scream at him, stirring his mind with ideas and thoughts that leave him feeling giddy and slightly breathless. He thinks of Yuuri, the gold flecks of his eyes would make the gold rings absolutely pale in comparison.

"I see," The shopkeeper intones, following Viktor's gaze. He chuckles wistfully as he walked over to the case. "A ring for your lover then? Planning on proposing soon?"

He's red, he knows and the telling look on the shopkeepers face looks like he's hit the jackpot. "Well....."

(Shit.)

"It's good luck to propose to your lover on the night of a summer festival," The shopkeeper tells him as he plucks a few of the rings out of the case and lays them on the countertop. Viktor wordlessly approaches him, a bit wary of the shopkeepers rather wide smile. "The locals believe that it will bring the couple good fortune. Something to do with fairies and the old gods but romantic nonetheless." He waves his hand, dismissing the notion with a chuckle.

(He briefly wondered how this shopkeeper would react if he knew that he was talking to royalty. A small part of him wanted to find out.)

It might as well be a gimmick to get Viktor into buying a ring but he was a romantic at heart and the old shopkeeper's words of good fortune didn't phase him.

Viktor had already made up his mind.

"The one with the snowflake," Viktor asks, pointing to the thinnest band. It was slight little thing with no gems, there was only the hint of the snowflake engraved on the inside that caught his eye. It was perfect, and Viktor thought it would be lovely on Yuuri's hand. "Where is the other half?"

"Ah, well then," He sighs as if it were a great tragedy. Viktor nearly rolls his eyes, and people called him dramatic. "I'm afraid you were a bit too late, my friend. Someone already bought the other half a while ago."

"Oh," Viktor said, slightly disappointed.

He finds it odd that someone would buy only one ring instead if a pair. Maybe they thought they would be rejected by the person they were going to propose to. Viktor felt some sympathy for that person, whoever they were.

"There's other options!" The shopkeeper pushes the other rings towards him in an attempt to entice Viktor into buying them. "Sapphires are all the rage this year."

"No, no." He picked up the gold band with the snowflake," If that's the case, then I suppose that would mean this ring would be half of the original price?" Viktor jokes.

By the time he walked out of the small trinket shop, the sky had darkened. Dusk had fallen upon the town and it was as if the world had suddenly changed. Small orbs of light decorated every inch of the town like the stars from above, illuminating the town square. It looked as if someone has powdered the town in fairy dust, everything glowed so beautifully that it robbed the breath from his lungs.

Viktor stood there in awe as the townsfolk fluttered past him, muttering excitedly about the night's festivities. It was no ball, there was no waltz playing or champagne floating through the crowds, but Viktor thought it to be just as wonderful. If only he had a camera, he would've gladly taken a picture of this so that he may show his future children the small town where he had fallen in love all over again. This was something that you remembered, something precious and beautiful that deserved to be preserved.

The bonfire was still a wooden skeleton, unlit and cold. Soon it would be a blazing pillar of flame that would bathe the square in an amber glow and herald the beginning of the summer festival. Viktor was very much looking forward to that.

There still no sign of Yuuri and a small part of him worried. Viktor had walked around the square several times, somehow ended up with a cupful of spiced wine as he searched for his beloved. It tastes sweet, unlike the more heavier drinks he was used to it was light on his tongue. The wine was served cold to stave off some of the heat, and Viktor kept it that way.

Eventually, he found Yuuri leaning against the wall near the fountain. Viktor felt some of the fear and worry abate, drying up the moment he laid eyes on Yuuri. He had a cup of wine in his hand, sipping nervously as he glanced around the square. Viktor could tell Yuuri was nervous even from afar, it was easier to read Yuuri now that he had a glimpse into his mind. He noticed when he walked closer that his cheeks were flushed pink. No doubt from the wine he had indulged himself in without Viktor. 

Viktor found the red flushed highlight of his cheeks adorable, it reminded him of apples, so soft and just as sweet.

"Yuuri!" Viktor called out his name, giggling as Yuuri startled and placed a hand over his chest to calm his heart. "You were gone for so long," He pouted, kissing Yuuri's cheek in greeting. "Did you find what you were looking for, darling?"

"I did," He said. Yuuri wrapped his arm around Viktor's waist, leaning his head against his shoulder as he lazily sipped from his cup. "Did you have fun exploring?"

Viktor dug his hand into his pocket, toying with the ring that was there. He smiles into his cup. "Much."

The familiar sound of the fiddle and the follow up of the drum signals the beginning if the festival. Viktor watches in amusement as the townsfolk cheer loudly as the bonfire is lit and the band in the corner starts playing. Yuuri's head turns at the sound of the music, his whole body practically thrums with energy underneath his fingers. Viktor can feel the way that Yuuri yearns to dance and he is loathe to disappoint him.

The dancing starts just as quick as couples partner off with each other, falling into step with the sound of the fiddle and drums. It's a lively jig with the couples dancing around the fire, weaving in and out before falling back into the partner's arms. Laughter fills the air, full of merriment and joy.

It truly is a beautiful night and Viktor could think of no other way to spend it than to be with Yuuri.

Viktor takes Yuuri's cup away and puts them down before turning to Yuuri who gives him a confused look.

"Dance with me," Viktor offers his hand and Yuuri takes it without hesitation.

Yuuri gives his hand a gentle squeeze as he pulls him towards the bonfire. His eyes are dancing, the gold in his eyes shimmers with the excitement that is barely concealed. Viktor is reminding not for the first time of just how beautiful Yuuri is.

"Let me lead, Vitya?" Yuuri asks him, pulling Viktor gently into his arms. "I promise not to step on your toes."

"As you wish, darling."

Yuuri drags them into the fray, already lost to the music that rages through the air like a storm.

Dancing with Yuuri will always like a dream, he always felt like he was lost in the way Yuuri held his close and spun him around. Viktor was dizzy, not just from the excessive amount of turning that this dance required. Laughter rippled from his throat in waves, bathed in the soft flickering glow of the bonfire. Yuuri was ethereal, amber bathing his soft features aglow. He was a beacon of laughter and light and Viktor couldn't look away.

And he never would. 

Like a butterfly caught in a spiders web, he was trapped but he must have been a foolish little butterfly because he had no intention of freeing himself.

"I love you," Yuuri breathed, pressing his forehead against Viktors. The slight sheen of perspiration made his skin look incandescent, like gold smeared into his skin. His hair was messy, some of the strands sticking to his forehead. Viktor must've looked equally worse, now that he was free from the accursed straw hat, his hair had been mussed and unkempt. They both looked like they had taken a tumble but Viktor could hardly care, he had better things to worry about than the state of his hair or the way his shirt stuck to his back.

Yuuri was right here and he was happy. So was Viktor. That was all that seemed to matter at this moment.

The music slowed down for a short bit, allowing them to twirl each other around before spinning back into each other's arms. Viktor sighed blissfully, eyes fluttering closed as he kissed Yuuri.

"And I, you." He muttered against his lips.

For the sake of everyone around them and their bodyguards who were dancing together in order to keep an eye on them, Viktor pulled away. They giggled like school children when they caught sight of their guards stumbling over each other. The tune picked up again, causing Viktor to nearly stumble. He wasn't as graceful as a dancer like Yuuri, he might as well be stumbling through the whole dance while Yuuri danced across the cobblestones like he was dancing on air.

Viktor felt ridiculous but he was enjoying himself, he felt carefree and light.

As the fiddle rose, bending into a sharp crescendo, Yuuri gripped him by the waist and lifted him up in tandem with the other dancers. Viktor gasped as his hand flutter to Yuuri's shoulders, peals of laughter escaping from his mouth as Yuuri spun him around before placing him back down.

"My Yuuri is so strong!" Viktor exclaimed, excited by the impressive display of straight from Yuuri.

He isn't sure how long they've been dancing, it's hard to tell. The slight give in his legs suggest they've been dancing for too long, he's hot and burning from the exertion but he can't find a reason to stop yet.

Viktor has read hundreds upon thousands of books about falling in love, eccentric protagonists dancing in each other's arms. Reading through those passages, he always scoffed about how the world faded away there was nothing left but just two people who loved it other. How was it possible to be so lost in somebody that world just ceased to exist? Was that really a way to express love or just someone who had been caught up in the intense emotions? Viktor had wondered but with no idea what love even felt like, he couldn't form a concise opinion other than it was just useless words.

But now, with Yuuri pulling him to a stop, Viktor could understand what those books had been talking about.

Dancers whipped past them, lost to the sway of the drum and fiddle. Soon they faded away with the music till there is only Yuuri in him under the golden lights and moon. Yuuri leaned in, tugging Viktor down to his level as his lips swallowed up whatever question Viktor wanted to ask. The fire was warm against his skin, boiling his blood as Yuuri kissed him with a desperation born of something Viktor was yet to understand.

Yuuri pulls away, breathless and red. 

"Vitya," He calls his name softly, holding up something gold and shiny that trapped Viktor's gasp in his throat. "Will you marry me, my love?"

It's a simple proposal, something that felt right since it came from Yuuri's mouth. Viktor knows he's crying, he feels the hot wet tears drip down his face and he fights to get his answer out. Yuuri's hand is immediately there, wiping away the tears and Viktor reaches into his pocket for the ring.

He brings the ring up, holding it up to Yuuri. It shines like a dragons scale, reflecting the light of the bonfire. Viktor knows he doesn't have to say anything as he presents the small golden band to Yuuri, slipping it delicately onto his finger. 

"I do."

 

 

It's three days later till Yuuri realizes that not everything happens according to a nursing rhyme.

What was supposed to be a simple ride through the countryside turned into this; Yuuri and Viktor huddling underneath a tree as their horses graze as the rain pours.

"So much for perfect weather," Viktor quipped. He took off his riding jacket, draping it over Yuuri's shoulders to keep him warm. Even though it too had been soaked by the sudden downpour of rain, Yuuri found that the scent of Viktor lingered with the smell of fresh cut grass and mud.

He wrapped it around himself tighter, leaning into Viktor warm embrace as they waited out the sudden storm. It does little to keep out the cold but it's the thought that counts.

"I think it's romantic," Yuuri said, looking up at Viktor. He stood on his toes to kiss his jaw, Viktors skin was surprisingly warm underneath his lips and Yuuri wanted to keep kissing him there. "I've read so many books where the rain brings two people together. And now I'm experiencing it too."

"Darling," Viktor hummed when Yuuri's lips trailed down the exposed part of his neck, savoring the taste of the rain on his skin. "If you keep doing that, I'll—-"

"What?" Yuuri asked. He could feel Viktor tighten his arms around him in response to the open mouth kiss he placed near his ear. He whispers: "What will you do, Vitya?"

He can feel the cords of muscles as he slides his palm up Viktor's back, his finger teasing the grooves and bumps of his spine before settling around his waist, pulling him impossibly close. Yuuri's hand lingers near his wound, faintly tracing the outline of his mark that was visible through the thin material of-of his shirt. Yuuri feels Viktor shudder underneath his heated touch, a sound dying inside his throat. The white shirt Viktor wore was completely wet and clung to his skin in an almost obscene way that left little to the imagination.

Yuuri was playing a dangerous game, one that would leave either of them burned.

His mark was hidden underneath a layer of gauze and carefully concealed in case something like this would happen, Viktor had been merciful enough to not question him about it. He knew things would have to come to light sooner or later but for now, Yuuri didn't think he was ready. Things were so new as they were, with time-limited and the day fading, he would find a day to tell Viktor everything.

Now was not the time.

"Well for one," Viktor started off, a bit breathless. "I will certainly ensure that the moment we get back to our quarters, we won't be leaving for the remainder of the day." Yuuri pulls away, gauging Viktors carefully tailored expression, looking for any sign of falsehood. His heart hammers in his chest so loudly he was certain that Viktor could feel it too. (Or was that Viktor's heartbeat?)

"And two," Viktor said, brushing his thumb across Yuuri's chapped lips and tilting his head up. The small action makes his spine tingle in anticipation. His pupils were blown wide, the blue nearly swallowed up by his pupils. He looked _starving._ "I have no intention of behaving myself when I'm around you."

Yuuri laughed the same moment that Viktor broke his composure. He leapt up, encircling his arms around his neck and kissing him hard as the rain continued to fall around them. The jacket fell to the ground, thoroughly soaked with rainwater but neither of them cared. It was quickly forgotten.

He kept on giggling through the kisses as Viktor presses him gently against the tree and licked into his mouth slowly as if he was savoring him. Viktor clutched onto Yuuri as his fingers tangled in the wet strands of his hair.

Yuuri wanted, he knew that much. He wanted whatever Viktor was willing to give him. He could feel the warmth pool in his gut, and his lungs felt as if they had been inflated with helium and every one of his nerve endings was on fire, his veins thrummed with eagerly beat of his heart till that was all he could hear other than Viktors ragged breathing between the laughter and kisses.

In two days time their time together would end, he was going to relish every bit of it. Yuuri knew he was going to look back on this day with bittersweet tears, (or at least Viktor would.)

Yuuri could only indulge in him for now.

Raindrops trickled down onto them through the small gaps of the densely clustered leaves. His skin was cold and damp, goosebumps dotted the exposed parts of his skin. Yuuri shivered, not from the rain that chilled him but from the pleasant heat that was building up between them like a raging fire. Neither the cold or the rain could put it out.

"Yuuri," Viktor purred his name, his hands grip onto Yuuri's hips as he presses down. The tree bark is rough, it digs into his skin but Yuuri doesn't mind the slight discomfort when Viktor was kissing his trembling lips with fervor. "What else happened in those books of yours?"

"I can think of a few things, but their better said behind closed doors," Yuuri replied, softly.

"Ah, you are going to be the death of me, Yuuri Katsuki," Viktor said between the kisses. "I can think of no better way to die."

"We'll see about that," He said, emotions stirring in his chest. Yuuri continues to smile regardless. "Oh, the rain's let up."

"About time!" Viktor reclaimed, smiling up at the sky in silent thanks. He scoops Yuuri into his arms with ease as he walked out from the shadow of the large oak tree. The rain is now a light drizzle but the wind still blows, cutting into them.

" _Vitya!_ " Yuuri protests are quickly interrupted by Viktors lips on his, reveling in the warmth that continues to rage between them like a wildfire.

There's not much talking when they get to the estate, Chris and his husband make themselves scarce when they see Viktor carrying Yuuri in as if he were some newlywed bride. Yuuri is thankful when they asking nothing about the state of their clothes or the redness of Yuuri's face. He knows he'll be mortified during breakfast the next day but Viktor arm around his waist pulls him away from those thoughts and towards their room instead. 

There's hardly anytime to wave Chris and his husband goodbye.

Getting back their rooms proves to be a challenge, they can't seem to stop kissing each other as, moving blindly through the endless maze of stairs and hallways, and every time they pull away, they keep bumping into things. (Viktor nearly knocked over a vase when Yuuri snuck his hand underneath his shirt.) Whatever grace they possessed was left outside with the riding jacket.

It's only when Viktor presses him against their door that Yuuri thinks _finally_ before tangling his hands in Viktor's hair once more and surrendering himself to the warmth he had been yearning for. 

 

 

Viktor wakes up first, well rested and light as the sun peeks through the heavy curtains of their shared bedroom. The sun had barely peaked over the horizon, the sky a dull and emotionless blue that left him feeling melancholic as laid on his side if the best. He considers himself to be a morning person but this morning made him reconsider, there was a weariness in his bones that consumed him. Especially now with Yuuri is still asleep next to him, curled up and clutching at the thin material of his nightshirt.

He leans down, pressed feather light kisses to Yuuri's forehead and cheeks.

Yuuri's nose scrunches up at the pleasant disturbance, a small furrow forms between his eyebrow. Viktor makes quick work of the furrow, melting it away with his kiss as he gently brushed aside the loose stands on Yuuri ink-colored hair.

It was time.

"Yuuri," Viktor coos softly, rousing Yuuri from his dreams. He's reluctant to wake him up, knowing full well that it would be weeks till Yuuri was back in his arms again like this. "It's time to wake up, my darling."

"Must I, Vitya?" Yuuri burrows into his chest, scowling adorably. "Can't I sleep next to you for a few minutes longer?"

As Viktor learned, Yuuri enjoys sleeping in when he can. He's upset to wake him, preferring to sleep next to him and hold him but today can't be helped. It was time for Viktor to let Yuuri go, he kept telling himself it was only for a few weeks and they would see each other again but he is unwilling to get up as well.

Viktor sighs deeply, caressing his face. "You must, love."

They get up with much reluctance as the sun rises.

The both of them dress quietly, hardly speaking a word to each other. There's nothing that either of them can say that can ease each other. 

Breakfast passes without much incident, even Chris and his husband scarcely make a sound other than a casual remark about traveling and remarking about the weather. Viktor responds in short and stilted answers, his hand gripping Yuuri's underneath the table, tracing the cool metal of his ring. His breakfast looks hardly appetizing, and whenever he glanced at Yuuri he saw the younger man toying with his food barely taking a bite.

It was like watching a flower wilt before your very eyes, the sadness that lingered in Yuuri's eyes made his heart squeeze painfully.

Yuuri is the first to get up, pushing a pleasant smile onto his face as the clock strikes nine. His train leaves in two hours but Viktor is tempted to take a hammer to the grandfather clock so that he may stop the passage of time. Viktor has no sway over time as it was a primordial being that waited for no one, not even someone as powerful as him. He can only watch as the second's tick by, signaling the end of their little rendezvous.

He stands by the door as Yuuri bids Chris and his husband goodbye, thanking them profusely for this week.

"None of that, Yuuri," Chris waves it aside with ease, instead, gripping Yuuri's hand in a firm handshake. Viktor wraps his arms around Yuuri's waist, squeezing gently. "We are friends, and you are welcome to our estate anytime you please. I don't think I've seen Viktor smile as much, I know that you make him happy and that puts my heart at ease knowing that my friend has found happiness."

"Thank you for everything you've done for us, Chris," Yuuri said, his eyes tearing up a little bit. "I'll never be able to pay you back for this."

"Only promise to love him and stay by his side, that is payment enough."

Yuuri's luggage fits into the carriage outside with ease, all that is left is for Yuuri to enter the little carriage that would take him to the train station. It was a mutual agreement that Viktor would say his goodbyes here instead of at the platform. It's for his own good, he knows but Viktor isn't sure how well his heart could cope as he watches Yuuri fade into the distance.

The day is sunny, far too beautiful. On such a bittersweet occasion, the sun had the audacity to shine while Viktor suffered.

(He's never been good at saying goodbye and he wasn't about to start now.)

"Vitya," Yuuri calls his name softly, his hands hold his face tenderly. His touch is hot, searing his skin as blood rushes up to his cheeks. "What will I do with myself? I haven't even left yet and I miss you already, my love."

Viktor throat threatens to close up and a smile blooms onto his face, painfully of course but he bore it. He chuckles and takes Yuuri's hand, his lips skimming across his palm and then his ring in reverence as he whispered into his skin, "Oh, my darling Yuuri. Every moment that I am parted from you will be torture."

"Oh, however will you _ever_ survive?" Yuuri sweetly coos, wiping away the tears that fall from his eyes.

"I don't think I will survive," Viktor admits, laughter falling from his lips incredulously. "I can only wait till we meet again."

"If that is the case then may I kiss you, Vitya?" Yuuri asks him, his eyes shy and demure. "So that I may look forward to kissing you again in the future."

_I was thinking the exact same thing._

He nods, lifting their hands up and kissing the ring on Yuuri's finger yet again before kissing him. Their lips meet halfway, pressed against each other in a gentle manner that steals Viktor's breath away. It's a chaste little thing and Viktor knows that he will remember the way that Yuuri's lips feel under his. Besides Yuuri's letter and the rose, this is all Viktor will have of Yuuri. (As well as the marks underneath his shirt.) Viktor will part with these, for now, knowing that this brief interlude is only the beginning of their life together.

"Soon," Viktor promises. "I will see you soon, my love."

Yuuri only kisses him in return, sealing the promise with a tender kiss.

"Soon," He echoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just noticed that this fic hit almost 300o hits and I want to take the time to say thank to everyone who left a comment or kudos on this work. Your support has helped me to keep writing, it means a lot to me. Thank you so much once again! 
> 
> I will try my best to post the next chapter soon. Now that I've given you some fluff, I'll be gifting you something even better: drama.


	19. Begonia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Begonia - 'Beware'

Winter creeps in early, slowly like a lion stalking its prey. It bites at your fingertips slightly and follows you as you cut across the streets. Mila allows it to toy with her hair, pulling out the carefully braided strands. She mimicked a flame as she walked, fiery and fierce with determination. But like any flame, she cast a shadow. 

She notices the lonesome figure following her through the streets, always at the corner of her eye. Mila tightens her grip on the hilt of her blade hidden carefully underneath her jacket. Viktor had been attacked by bandits only a month or so prior, she had her suspicions that it was an assassination attempt but she had no evidence to prove such an allegation. 

Yet.

Nobody could be too cautious in Rusburg, the oncoming winters always brought tensions and with the wind, it brought back bad memories as well. 

As the night casts its shadow, Mila sticks to tighter corners and narrow streets. She ducks away, hiding herself behind a wall, listening carefully with her blade in her hand. Footfalls approach softly before growing louder and louder. It’s moments like these where she hides away the fear and panic that try to threaten her, one day she will meet her end doing her duty for the crown and her only regret will be that she will not have the chance to tell her darling Sara goodbye. 

But today will not be that day, Viktor isn’t the only one stubborn enough to refuse death. 

As the stranger gets closer, her hand reaches out and quickly grabs them by the front of their cloak before slamming them painfully against the wall. Her blade finds is pressed against their throat in a matter of seconds, baying for blood. 

Two greenish blue eyes gaze up at her, widened in fear. 

“Ow!” Yuri hisses, struggling to get out of her ironclad grip. “What the hell, Mila!? That fucking hurts!” 

“I should be asking the same thing, your highness,” Mila sheaths her sword. Her grip remains on the young prince, unwilling to let him go. One Prince running around with an escort was bad enough, now it seemed Yuri had picked up on Viktor’s habit. “You’re supposed to be tutored by Lilia today and instead I find you trailing me like a lost kitten.”

“Tch! I wasn’t following you on purpose!”

“Oh, really? And who follows someone by accident?” Mila smirks. “Should I tell Her Royal Majesty why you were off palace grounds _without_ an escort or would you like to explain that part to her?”

“You’re going to tattle on me to my aunt?” Yuri scoffed, rolling his eyes. He swats away Mila’s hands and sends her a half-hearted glare. “What are you? Five?”

She drops her playful demeanour, eyes narrowed dangerously. “Yuri.” 

“Ugh!” 

“Why are you following me?” She asks him, steel creeping into her voice. Mila does not have time to babysit princes because they have nothing better to do. 

“I know that Viktor asked you to do something for him and honestly, I just wanted to know what was going on,” Yuri admits to her quietly. He stares down at his boots and refuses to look her in the eye. “Viktor doesn’t tell me everything, he only gives me bits and pieces. It’s annoying,” He growls. “I hate it when he thinks he can pull the wool over my eyes, I’m not stupid.” Mila waits for him to continue, she hides her pity knowing that Yuri would hate it. “There’s something going on, I can feel it. I don’t know how to explain it but I just know that its big and it's ugly and if we don't find out what it is, we’re practically screwed.”

Mila whistles. “Wow.”

“Shut up!” 

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” Mila asks him, sharply raising her eyebrows in an accuser sort of way. “I can’t take you to the palace and I can’t afford to lose this lead.” She sighs, tagging in the already loose strands of hair. “God, you are spending way too much time with Lilia.” 

“I have no idea what you mean.” Yuri deadpans. “Shit happens. Not my fault.” 

Typical.

“Fine, Yura,” She takes a step back. For a moment, it looks as if Yuri will bolt from her. “You’re coming along with me but whatever you do, do not draw any attention to yourself. Where we’re going isn't exactly kind to aristocrats,” She said, tugging the hood of Yuri’s cloak over his head nearly covering his eyes. He swats her hands away again and tucks his hair back. At best he looked like a rogue with no sense of humor and at worst he looked like a lost homeless kid. “And whatever you do, keep your head down.” 

 

 

The docks were no place for a prince and the captain of the guard but here they were. 

It smelled strongly of fish guts and Yuri would never see seafood the same again, it clung to his skin like an oily coat and the lingering remnants of the summers heat only made it worse. He swore to take a bath the moment he got back to the palace. 

Mila walked ahead of him, navigating the streets as if she knew them well. Considering her background, she probably did. Yuri didn’t know much about the Captain other than she came from humble beginnings and could gut you within the blink of an eye. Mila was probably as scared as he was but she did a better job of hiding it.   
“Where are we going?” Yuri asked softly, glancing up occasionally. 

Two people passed them by, quiet and staring straight ahead, they looked tired and probably needed a drink according to the look in their eyes. Yuri doesn't pay them much attention, he blamed the shivers that traveled down his arms as nothing more than his paranoia. He just wasn’t used to being in this part of the city, it made the hairs on his nape stand on edge and his hands to flicker with flames. 

Mila didn’t say anything. 

All around him are the scars from decades ago, from his father's reign. They run deep and jagged turning everything around him ugly. Yuri never knew his father, but he knew of what he had done and what his reign consisted of. A sliver of guilt ran through him as he eyes the worn down houses and uneven roads, the closed down shops and hungry looking eyes bear down into him. A small voice tells him that this is the legacy he’ll inherit if he isn’t too careful. Whoever his father was, whatever terrible things he did, Yuri was grateful to Viktor and his remaining family for shaping him into a (somewhat) decent human being. 

Eventually, they come to a stop in a small rundown house that had seen more prosperous days. The roof looked close to caving in and the windows looked dirty, the only thing that could be considered appeasing was the red door that welcomed them. It was starting to peel, the red paint flecks on the ground revealing the ugly wood underneath. 

“Remember what I said,” Mila reminded him. 

She knocked firmly three times, each time her knuckles struck the door Yuri was afraid that it would fall over. Noone answered, there wasn't even the slightest shuffle of footprints. Yuri looked at Mila, eyes questioning. She only shrugged, raising her hand to knock again. Just as she was about to knock, the door creaked open slightly to reveal a pair of blue eyes and a wan look face. Yuri knew the look of hopelessness, it was written across the man's features. He suppressed a shudder and looked down at his shoes instead. 

Mila, mercifully, took the lead. 

“Good evening,” She said, the corner of her lips turning upwards slightly. The man only stared at wish his fish-like eyes. “I’m looking for someone, I was told that I could find them here and---”

“I’m afraid you might be lost,” The man looked away. It was the least subtle thing he could do. “I have no interest in selling one of my daughters to Volkov for his sick business!” His expression morphed into one of intense hatred, Yuri flinched away. “He’s taken away too much already! Good evening to you!”

“You’ve misunderstood!” Mila recovered quickly. She jumped her foot in the doorway before he could close it. “We are not with Volkov.” 

Yuri tried to wrack his head for that name but he couldn’t come up with anything, it slipped through the cracks in his mind. Yakov had warned him once to watch out for certain factions who may try to convince him to join their little schemes but he couldn't recall if that name was on the list, he knew faces better than names.

Volkov, huh?

Maybe he could ask Yakov when he went home. 

The man shrunk away as if he were expecting Mila to deal a blow to his head. He held Mila back by the back of her cloak, tugging light to give the man some space. 

“I’m here on official business from the palace guard,” Mila said with authority in her voice, causing the man’s eyes to widen. He glanced at the familiar strands of red hair, familiarity flashing through his eyes. The Captain of the Palace Guard was just as popular as the royal family, they always took the head in royal processions and interacted frequently with the common folk. “I am looking for your wife, Lyra.”

“She’s not here,” He said, shrinking away. Yuri resisted the urge to barge into his house. “She’s in the countryside, she just gave birth.”

“Funny,” Mila scoffed. “According to my sources, she hasn't left the city at all.” She leans forward, narrowing her eyes. “You are aware that it is a crime to lie to the authorities? Where I come from, we call that obstruction of justice.”

“Mila!” Yuri balked. “What are you---”

“You could be arrested or worse,” She continued. “I know you have two children, think of what would happen if you were thrown in jail?”

He looked like he was going to piss himself, blue eyes widened in terror as they flipped back and forth between them. “No,” He whimpered. “I can’t afford to go to jail, we barely have enough as it is.” 

“Where is your wife?” She asked again. Yuri flinched at her tone. “I won’t ask again.”

The door swung open and the man took a step back, his eyes were cast down as he ushered them inside. It smelled musty in here, the floorboards creaked and the windows were pale with age. 

Yuri didn’t like this at all but he wordlessly followed along. The man closed the door behind them silently before walking ahead of them to what he assumed the kitchen was. 

The first thing he saw when he entered the room was a young woman with dark hair and brown eyes clutching a child to her chest, she looked like a frightened deer as she quivered in her seat. Next to her were two other children, with the same hair but one had blue eyes while the other had brown. Across from them, sitting in a chair with a sense of authority was a man with dark hair tinged silver and piercing blue eyes, he was sticky and he looked more like a boxer. 

He smiled when he laid eye on Yuuri, twisting his mouth viciously. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” The woman, Lyra, said. Tears rolled down her face but it was of little use. “I had no choice, I’m so sorry.” 

“Good evening, Your Highness,” He greeted. “Captain Babacheva. I wasn't expecting you to arrive here.” 

Mila brought out her blade, ready to strike. “Who are you?” She growled fiercely. Yuri’s gloves singed away, leaving on flames dancing on his fingertips. 

“No need for such hostilities,” The man said, he got up and bowed towards Yuri mockingly before facing Mila. “I was expecting you.” 

“You didn't answer my question.”

“Ah yes, where are my manners. I call myself Kazamir,” He smirked reaching up towards his face. Yuri saw his features shift slightly, it was subtle and if you blinked you would’ve missed the slight glimmer that covered his face like a sheer cloth. His nose becomes more pointed and his eyes bled into a more darker shade of green and he no longer looked as if he were in his early thirties, he had aged at least ten years more with wrinkles forming near his eyes. 

Yuri suddenly felt sick when his face stopped moving, dread pooled in the pit of his stomach. 

He knew that name, it was as infamous as his father's. 

Mila quickly pushed Yuri behind her. It would do little to help but she had a duty t protect the royal family from danger, Lord Volkov stood over them like a shadow. 

His eyes glimmered with amusement at the action

“Although, you may know me as Lord Volkov.”

" _Shit._ "


	20. Winter Cherry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter Cherry - 'Deception'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy~

It is a quarter past noon and Viktor is uneasy.

The source of that uneasiness sits in front of him with hungry looking eyes and a grin as sharp as a knife. Naturally, he is trusting but since the man has come all the way from Parliment to talk to him personally, he will have to endure this entire conversation. He waits for him to finish his tea before getting down to business.

“Lord Volkov,” Viktor leans back and observes the man carefully. “What brings you to my office this fine and rather uneventful day?”

“I see you like to get straight down to business, Your Highness.” For some reason, he smiles but it is not a pleasant one. It digs underneath Viktors skin and burrows there, he keeps his face polite but impassive, giving only the slightest air of interest away. “I like that about you, it is very telling of your character and what a better trait than determination for our future king.”

Viktor hates the way he sings phrases for him, it’s not surprising but it’s not original either. Others have done many things to gain his favour and his attention. When Viktor was young, his hair long and his eyes filled with stardust, his father pulled him aside one night and gave him a word of advice that stuck to him till this day; _never trust those who lay praises at your feet like they lay flowers._ His father was a wise king, learning from the mistakes of his brother and tirelessly working to make the crown powerful and his citizens happy; Viktor knew that his father wouldn't be around forever, he would have to learn how to fend for himself.

Lord Volkov is only in a line of aristocrats and gentry that scramble to gain his attention.

And he certainly won’t be the last.

Viktor keeps his head high and his gaze levelled as he stares into his eyes, he knows how to handle men like Volkov and that’s with suave tactics and a deceivingly charming smile.

“However, Your Highness,” Lord Volkov inclines his head, his eyes flicker to the rose that is pinned to his lapel. Viktor resists the urge to press his hand over it, hiding it away from his prying eyes. “It is a pity that you seem to have your affections elsewhere, you could’ve had a strong marriage with one of the neighbouring princesses if you liked.”

Viktor nearly froze.

 _He’s goading you into a fight._ Viktor seethes on the inside, his mind clouding with anger and the insinuating words that fall from his mouth. He quickly reminds himself that he can do better. _Composure is key, focus._

Yuuri and he were a secret that only a select few knew about, a carefully well-guarded secret. His parents knew that he had a lover and they had their suspicions on who it was but Viktor was certain that their letters hadn’t been compromised.

“I am afraid that I do not understand what you mean,” Viktor smiles and tilts his head, allowing his smile to be more relaxed. “Perhaps you could explain to me exactly what you mean, Lord Volkov.”

If the was thing Viktor couldn’t stand, it was empty threats. They reminded him of children throwing temper tantrums.

“Airheadedness does not suit you, Your Highness.” Volkov quips. He takes a sip of his tea and sets the cup down, his eyes boring into Viktors with an unrelenting determination. “And neither does your perceived naiveness. Sometimes I look at you and wonder if you are aware of how you look when you think you have the upper hand.”

“Lord Volkov,” Viktor purrs. He ignores the sting of irritation, it was a rouse to get Viktor to lose his composure and he knew better than to fall into this man’s trap. “You seem to forget in whose presence you are in. Perhaps you shouldn’t drink during the day.”

He scoffs at his jab. “Oh, Your Highness, I am aware of who you are and the words I speak.”

“Normally I tell you to get out but I feel like you’re not the type of man to just simply move out of the way.” Viktor’s stare turns icy despite his smile. “So let’s get to it. What do you want?”

Lord Volkov, a snake of a man who made Viktors skin crawl just looking at him. He was a threat but not a powerful one, something like an annoying bug buzzing around but he always knew that the man was smarter than the people he surrounded himself with. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing, cunning and dangerous. And now it seemed he was trying to wrestle Viktor into being his new prey.

Viktor has faced worse.

He stood fast and strong like a mast of a ship in the midst of a storm.

“So glad that you understand!” He leans back in his chair with ease as if it were a throne. “I keep telling my friends that you’re not as dense as you look but nobody believes me, Your Highness.”

“What do you want?” Viktor repeats, a little more firmly.

“Ah, yes. What do I want?” Volkov seems intent on dragging this out. It makes Viktor almost curious to see what he had to offer. Almost. “I think, Your Highness, the real question is what do you want?”

“I believe that I’ve made my desires to Parliament quite transparent—-“

“No.” Viktor snaps his mouth shut, mostly out of irritation. He imagined Volkov as a fat fly that he could swat away. “Your deepest desire. Something that you want to badly that you would burn the world down just to get. Even a prince who has everything in the world would want something I’m sure.”

“Your _point_?”

“Do you want to know my deepest desire?”

“I feel like you’re going to tell me anyway.”

Volkov smiled, wide and toothy, like an overzealous wolf. “I want your pretty little head on a silver platter.” He said softly as if he were asking to be excused. “I want your so-called royal pristine blood to stain the floors of this palace.” Volkov laughs abruptly, his head thrown back as if he told some sort of joke. “But I suppose that’s asking for too much.”

Viktor remains still, barely breathing as he seethes.

How dare he?

He should’ve summoned the guards immediately but Hastiness isn’t wise, he keeps his rage at bay and his face motionless. Viktor wouldn't even give him the satisfaction of his reaction.

“Really?” He rolls his eyes. “Am I supposed to be intimidated by that? If it is a threat, I think you need to rethink it.”

“No, that wasn't a threat. If I wanted to threaten you I'd bring a knife and a few of my men. That supposed to catch your attention because I know _exactly_ what you desire the most, Your Highness.” Viktor holds his breath, waiting anxiously for those next words. All he can think about is Yuuri. “You desire to abolish the Nobility Law.”

“How did you—-what?“ he glances down to his locked cabinet. “Impossible.“

“I have my ways, and let’s just say that you aren’t as clever or secretive as you think you are,” Lord Volkov says, pulling out two familiar pieces of writing. One in Viktors hand and the others in Yuuri’s. It feels like the floor has buckled underneath his feet, plunging him into an uncertain darkness.

“Yuuri, is it?” There is no fear in his eyes. His whole world is suddenly tinged red when Volkov purrs as he sniffs Yuuri’s letter, the corners of his lips turning up into a disgusting grin. It feels like a perversion and Viktor wants to wring his neck till his breath ceases in his lungs. “It smells sweet, like mint and honey. I wonder if your darling Yuuri tastes just as sweet.”

“I swear, Volkov, do not test me!” He growls out, his face morphing into that of fury. “This is between us."

“Are you really going to abolish the law because you want to marry some commoner? How the mighty fall in love, it’s most unbecoming.” Volkov places the papers on his desk, sliding it towards him. Viktor followed the movement before his eyes drifted back to Volkov's. “But I suppose that’s enough to make a deal and you are aware of just how much I love making deals.”

 _“No.”_ Viktor crosses his arms. "I will not make any sort of deal with you. I know what your and your 'deals' have led others."

“I can help you annul the Nobility Law.” He offers. "I can make your wish a reality."

“I do not need the help of your kind to abolish the law!” Viktor hisses at him. “I know your game and I refuse to play it.”

“I digress.”

“I don’t care.”

Volkov sighs deeply before picking up the now lukewarm tea and taking a sip. He grimaces at the taste. “I would rethink your stance. I would only need to right motivation to make you accept my proposal if you chose not to accept it now.” He stands up stiffly, hands clasped behind his back. "Last chance, yes or no?"

"No."

"Pity," He says but Viktor knows he doesn't mean it. Volkov hardly looks surprised and Viktor realizes his mistake too late. “Do not think that those closest to you are safe, Your Highness.”

“Get. Out.”

“I expect your answer within a week.” He turns and leaves, leaving a gaping hole of space in his wake. The doors close behind him with a soft click, Volkov's footsteps recess till there’s only silence.

A white handkerchief lies on the chair where he once sat, red silk embroidered on the sides to form a little cat. He picks it up with unsteady hands and unwraps it carefully. Strands of hair like spun gold sit nestled in the centre, a white ribbon holds it together but only just. The familiar smell of ash and gardenia hits Viktor like a slap to the face.

His hands now tremble in anger, and he slams his hand flat against his desk, ignoring that sharp pain that shoots up his arm.

He whispers, “ _Yuri._ ”

 

 

Viktor paces through the garden, Makkachin on his heels. She whines as she tried to keep up with his breakneck pace, only stopping when Viktor dives into the maze. He finds a stone bench in a secluded part of the maze and puts his head in his hands, clutching at his hair.

Here, nobody can judge him for being such a fool.

He doesn’t cry but he does allow himself to think. It's all he can do at the moment to gather his thoughts. 

Yuri was probably alone and scared, tied up or worse and it was all his fault. He should’ve kept a closer eye on the young blonde and now his cousin was being held hostage.

Viktor was only a man. He could only take so much. It seemed that God loved to test his limits.

He didn’t want to imagine the things that Volkov would do to him, it made his stomach churn to the point of nausea.

How did he even get Yuri in the first place? 

It should’ve been impossible, the palace grounds are undoubtedly secure, Mila was responsible for ensuring the relative safety of the palace and its inhabitants…..unless Yuri was never in the palace in the first place. Yuri had always had the habit of sneaking out of the palace when he wanted, it was easy for him to slip past the guards no matter how many times Viktor tried to stop him, he'd always find a way out. 

_Oh, you stupid boy_ , Viktor thinks, _Why couldn’t you just stay here and listen to me?_

It too late now. If Yuri was truly in Volkov's hand, it would only be a matter of time till he went after Yuuri next.

Oh god, Yuuri.

He needs to warn Yuuri but _how_?

Volkov got the letter somehow, their line of communication is compromised. If Viktor was to send him a letter, there was a high chance that it would never even make it to him. He wouldn;t even know. 

It’s his worst fear come true. 

He had made sure that every precaution had been taken and it still wasn’t enough. And now, because of him, Yuuri was in danger. His sweet, brave, and incredible Yuuri would be in harm's way because Volkov knew and soon the rest of his enemies would too.

He could always send a letter to Chris to warn Yuuri but how long would that take? Viktor didn’t have that much time and it might be too late by then. Going to Calabria would be risky and he had no idea where Mila was at the moment.

Mila was missing but that was only because she was following his orders. He needed her by his side, he didn’t know who to turn to and who was on his side. His parents were out of the question. They could help him but if Viktor made one wrong move, who knows what would happen to them. There were always other ways to kill monarchs, sometimes poison and a good old stabbing weren’t enough. Too risky, this country couldn't afford the death of Kind or Queen. 

There was always Yakov and Lilia, they’re not as young as they were but they certainly were there when Viktor needed them most. Especially Yakov who had been there by his side since the day he was born.

This wasn’t the time to consider what if’s. Viktor knew that he could be selfish and little vain at times, but this was his family that Volkov decided to meddle with.

He wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

Viktor closed his eyes, he needed to breathe. His lungs felt like they were going to burst. Makkachin butted his leg softly, whining and pawing at him as if she had sensed her master's distress. He reaches out and scratches her head.

At least he still had Makkachin.

He catches the faint sound of footsteps echo through the maze, too light to be that of a guard and too frantic to be an assassin. Viktor grips the handle of his sword anyway as the steps get closer and closer.

A lone figure clad in a mauve coloured dress runs towards him, dark hair frantically swishing behind them and heels clicking with each step.

“Sara?!”

The young princess halts in front of him, her hair in disarray and her eyes filled with tears. Her purple eyes are burning like witches light, full of fire and brimstone. She looks like she’s ready to destroy someone but at the same time, her hands are trembling at her sides.

Viktor reaches out to place his hand on his shoulder, guiding her to sit down next to him.

“What happened?” He asks gently. “Nobody notified me that you were coming. Are you alright? You look like hell.”

“I took an airship and my appearance is the last of my worries right now,” She said, tears falling down her face. “I didn’t know where else to go and _dio mio_ , Viktor, I don’t know what to do!" Sara cried out. "I need to see Mila! Where is Mila?!”

“Mila is fine!” Viktor tried to calm her down but she swats away his hands. "What does she---"

“No, she’s not!” Sara growls. She untucked a handkerchief from her waist and tosses it at Viktor. It lands a crumpled heap in his lap, the white cloth wrinkled beyond repair and tear stained. He can only look down at it with dread. “She’s not fine, Viktor. I wouldn't have received that if she was fine.”

"Where did you get this?" He asks her. 

"This came in three days ago," Sara told him. "I knew something was wrong but I didn't know what but this---" She exhales shakily, "---This was proof enough."

Strands of red hair peeking out from it, shining like fresh copper as the sun shines upon it. Viktor knows that shade of red, he had grown up with it. He turns to Sara, his eyes betraying nothing as he absorbs the information in. He feels anger but overlapping that is a profound sadness coupled with his own frustration.

First Yuri and now Mila.

“Oh god,” He rasps. He thought he had more time. “ _Yuuri._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it bad that I had fun writing this chapter? Because let me tell you how excited I was to finally get to this point!


	21. Helenium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helenium - Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret nothing.......

Yakov prided himself to not be a fool. He had survived a countless number of winters through this decrepit and miserable court, and he wasn’t too keen on finding himself in an early grave with nobody to mourn him.

His wife, or former wife if you were allowed to call her that, was all that was left to see him through his twilight years and even she had some doubts about how long he would survive. He didn’t put it past her to bet on how many more years his heart would beat before giving out due to sheer stress and whatever stupid thing either of the princes had done.

He expected to die alone in the countryside, not in his study staring into a spilt cup of brandy.

Of course, it would be poison.

Yakov had seen the effects of poison, through the dark years of the civil war that threatened to split this country into two.

It was easy.

Simple.

(How could he have been so stupid?)

His chest squeezed painfully like someone had stabbed him and twisted the blade till his throat closed up. It was only a matter of time now, the poison was slow intending to put its host through the most excruciating of pain. Yakov has moved only inches, creeping towards the door on his stomach. His own legs had given out on him moments ago and his felt his arms succumb to the fatigue.

The door of his study wasn’t ornate or large, it was considered humble by his standards. Lilia always complained that the door was too thick but that was the point, there were too many ears and too many eyes. In this court, a thick skin and an even thicker door were needed.

Now it seemed that the thick door would be his own demise. No one could hear his weakened cries, and even if the guards were there, Yakov couldn’t move now.

No one was coming to save him.

He groaned, his chest felt as if it was about to give way. He lifted his head, turning himself into his back and clutched at the knife he had tucked into his jacket. The assassin would most likely come back to see if their handiwork had paid off. It would be easy to give into death.

Countless before him had given themselves over freely but Yakov wasn’t just anybody.

He thought of the princes, and then his wife.

Viktor would become king without him, he had watched the silver-haired brat grow from a snotty nosed babe to a grown man. He would be a great king one day, Yakov knew it but even he worried for his happiness and future. And Yuri, what would become of him and how would he learn to survive in a court so cruel and unforgiving. Of course, the tiger cub knew how to fend for himself but he was still only a tiger cub.

His eyelids felt heavy.

Faintly he could hear the sound of the door bursting open, splinters and shards of ice flying around him but he couldn’t care less.

Yakov had no children, no one to carry on his name. Viktor and Yuri, they were the closest thing to a son that he had.

“Yakov!”

His chest hurt more.

“Oh god, Yakov!” Someone screamed his name, over and over till it started to echo in his ears. If he had any energy, he'd yell at them to shut up and let him die in peace. “Stay with me! Please!”

He closed his eyes, his arms gripping the hilt of the blade light a knight of old laid to rest.

The sweet smell of flowers, and the shade of purple obscuring his vision. A shrill scream followed by the sound of marching boots. Yakov immediately thought of Lilia, his fair and sweet and brutal and terrifying Lilia, with her sharp eyes and her beautiful mind. He wondered as he drifted into the dark if she would shed a tear for him at his funeral or not.

He felt himself being lifted up but he felt heavy, and then Yakov knew that the sand in his hourglass was up.

 

 

The room reeked of the smell of blood and spilt brandy. Viktor felt his stomach churn almost violently as the stench hits his nose. It burns, his eyes water and his heart lurch, anger clouds his vision instead of tears and he wants to find Volkov before he hurts anyone else that he cared about, mostly in order to wrap his hands around his throat and feel as his pulse ceased to move under his very palms.

It was only a matter of time till someone else got hurt.

A weeks time is what Volkov gave him, on the first day he had lost Mila and Yuri and now he was losing Yakov.

He didn’t know who would be next.

His parents?

Lilia?

Chris?

Yuuri?

Oh, god. He couldn’t bear it, he thought he was stronger. His heart couldn’t bear it. If Yuuri died, it would be his fault because he did nothing.

Yuuri would die by his hand instead of Volkov, all because he wanted to stand by his principles.

No, Viktor couldn't think of that.

He didn’t want to.

He refused to.

Yuuri had nearly died because of him once before and that was enough, Viktor would not put his beloved through that again. He could not bear the sight of Yuuri’s eyes filled with tears for _him._ Viktor knew that his heart was laid open for everyone when he willingly gave it to Yuuri.

Now it seemed that his heart would bleed and shatter, he knew that it would destroy him.

If Yuuri was here, he would tell him to stay calm. _Reason, not passion_. He could almost imagine the ghost of warmth on his shoulder and his soft words whispered into his ear; Yuuri wouldn't coddle him but he would stand with him, supporting him with his presence. Just thinking about Yuuri made his heart beat hard in his chest and his soulmark to burn under his clothes, something that had been happening more often these days.

Volkov’s reach was farther than he thought, to poison someone like Yakov was considered nearly impossible…..but here he was, staring down at his desk with an indescribable feeling that felt heavy on his tongue. He wanted to scream till this whole room buckled under the weight of his own frustration and fury but he kept his face passive without a trace of emotion. It was a struggle to keep his emotions in check but Viktor know that he was reaching the peak of his own limits, the question ow was how much longer till he snapped like a brittle and thin twig/ 

His shoulder seemed to rage under his clothes, setting his skin ablaze. It left Viktor only unsettled and anxious, he didn't understand why.

“Your Highness,” Georgi said from the doorway. Viktor took a deep breath in, silently releasing it before turning around. “I’m sorry for interrupting but Princess Sara requested to see you.”

“Ah, yes,” Viktor tore his gaze away from the spilt bottle of brandy. Georgi stood there still as a deer, uncertain and fearful of Viktors next move. “Please close the door behind you, Georgi.”

“Understood.” He stepped to the side allowing Sara to enter. Her skirts swept across the floor, barely touching it as if she were gliding. Georgi’s eyes swept between them with concern, a tad bit apprehensive before he closed the door, leaving them alone.

Yakov’s study was the most secure place Viktor could think of. The doors and walls had no ears, it was another one of his many safe havens but today the emptiness felt as if it was suffocating him.

“Viktor,” Sara said softly, she stopped in front of him. Her eyes were hard as glass, fear and fury behind her violet coloured irises. “What are we going to do now?”

That’s was the problem, Viktor didn’t know. His choices were limited and extremely risky.

He shrugged his shoulder, wincing as his shoulder prickled with pain.

“First Mila and Yuri, and now Yakov. It’s only a matter of time before he goes after someone else and…..since you’re here, he’ll probably go after someone else you love as well.” Viktor runs his hands through his hair in frustration. His head aches, throbbing along with his shoulder. “I have only a few days left till he—-“

“We cannot let him win!”

“He has Mila and Yuri!” Viktor snaps. Sara doesn’t flinch but her face quickly turns red. “If we do anything, he’ll kill them or _worse_.”

Sara takes his words, absorbing them till she huffs loudly and crosses the room until she stands in front of the window. She looks out of it, her body shaking like a leaf blowing in the wind. Viktor didn’t know if she was silently crying or holding her anger in. He admired her anger, wishing he could allow himself to release his own fury just like that. 

She barely speaks, waiting for several long and painful seconds before opening her mouth. “Have you told Yuuri?”

Viktor looked at the ground. “No.”

His mark burns like a hot coal pressed against his skin, he doesn’t know it’s been doing but it’s starting to annoy him. Viktor ignores his soulmark, dismissing it as nothing more than the bandages needing to be changed.

“That is stupid,” she hisses. “But I’m going to assume that your corresponded is compromised. There’s no way to contact him now, is there?”

“Yes.”

“And this man, Volkov, he’s not your ordinary politician.” Her tone darkens. “He’s something else, too powerful and too dangerous. It seems he knows what our weaknesses are and his brand of ruthlessness is something I have never seen before..”

“It’s my fault.”

“Shut up, Viktor,” Sara growls. Her gloves fists grip her skirts, twisting the fabric. “Not eveything is about you. This is far beyond our control now and what makes me furious is that this man has been planning this for a long, long time. We were only pawns in this man's game.” She sighs, deeply. “I would suggest bringing the King and Queen into this—-“

“No,” Viktor interrupts, shaking his head.

“—-And Volkov will kill them if they get involved. Mine as well, god only knows what Mickey will do. He may be annoying but he is still my brother, I don’t think I could live it if he died too.” He watches her shoulders tense, nearly touching her ears as she shrinks into herself. Sara looked so alone in the light, the sunlight only made her look lonely instead of lovely, there was nothing that indicated any of the fight he had seen in her eyes earlier. The same hopelessness clung to him as well. “If we were to go to Volkov and renegotiate, do you think there’s a way to stop him?”

“Perhaps,” He said. “Volkov is a patient man but he’s stubborn too. There’s a strong chance that he won’t negotiate with us.”

She turns back around. “This man has taken my soulmate and has threatened to take yours. He has poisoned your advisor and kidnapped your own cousin, as well as threaten to take my own brother,” Sara hisses. Viktor is confused at her choice of words, Yuuri isn’t his soulmate but he doesn’t correct her. “Would you let this man push us around or will you—-“

A sharp pain hits Viktor, sudden like a wave crashing into him. Sara shrieks when he sinks to his knees, and she immediately dives down to keep him upright.

His shoulder burns with an unknown intensity like someone pressed a hot poker there as if to brand him. It hurts so much, radiating from the area around his now closed up wound and he doesn’t know why he feels this pain.

All he knows that something is terrible, terribly wrong.

“Viktor!” Sara places a hand on his shoulder, her hands are too warm. “What’s going on?!”

“I don’t—-it just….” He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and count backwards, exhaling slowly. The pain stops as suddenly as it comes, nearly knocking the air out of his lungs and then hits him with a force that makes him double over. It’s white hot and intense, too much.

“Oh god.” Viktor gasps, lifting his head up. His vision is blurred with tears. “What is this?”

Something lands in his lap, withered and pale. He lifts it up with trembling hands, the rose shuddering in his grasp and its once soft petals now bleed and wither away in his own hand. Viktor can only hold it, watching the rose die in his hands. Only a dead husk remains of what used to beautiful, suddenly heavy like his own heart. He knows something terrible must’ve happened, the feeling is trapped in his chest swirling like poison.

He recalls of the rose and the enchantment placed onto it, knowing full well what it meant. It causes him to cry out weakly, feeling helpless.

All he can think about is Yuuri. His sweet, beautiful Yuuri; his smile and his eyes and his voice and his hands. Now…..that was gone forever, somehow cruelly ripped from Viktors hand leaving behind only the shattered remains of his heart. He could feel them digging into him, drawing out the fears he had kept carefully under control.

And he didn't even know why!

He had heard of grief creep up on others, tugging at them like a child wanting their mother attention but for him Grief hit him hard, slamming into his thought like a boat in rugged waves. He can feel it travel through his body, paralyzing him.

Viktor can’t breathe.

He wasn’t ready. Nothing prepared Viktor for this feeling, the hopelessness and the suddenness of death that others take for granted.

What pains him the most is that Viktor didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye, to say ‘i love you’ or to look into Yuuri’s eyes one last time.

(He promised to kiss him the next time he saw Yuuri.)

They were supposed to have more time with each other, in only two more weeks they would’ve seen each other. They were supposed to be married, they were supposed to live happily for once in their lives.

They were supposed to have much more time.

Oh god.

They should’ve had have more time.

(Why didn’t they?)

Was this Viktors punishment for forsaking his soulmate? Was this the result of his own free will? Volkov had something to do with this, of that he was certain but Viktor couldn’t concentrate on that right now. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, lost in the onslaught of emotions that tipped from the glass bottle he had pushed them into.

(Yakov was right, he really is a fool.)

Sara looks at him, he sees her mouth moving frantically but Viktor barely registers the words that fill his ears blankly as tears flowed from his eyes. They splashed uselessly onto the flower but Viktor posses no magic in his tears to bring it back to life.

Yuuri is dead.

His own tears froze to his face, shimmering like diamonds as his hands frosted over, the dead rose now turning frail and brittle as ice spread from underneath him, travelling to the far corners of the room and covering the windows. His breath comes out in small puffs of white air, drifting around him like a cacoon. It only makes him feel even number.

Yuuri is dead.

Sara shivers when the ice touches her knees but she remained next to his, her hand squeezing his shoulder to the point of pain.

Yuuri is _dead._

Oh, god.

Viktor dropped the rose as if the petals suddenly burned him, watching it shatter as it made contact with the floor. The pieces scatter around him.

It’s his fault.

It’s all his fault.

Yuuri is dead because of him.

“Yuuri. Oh, my darling Yuuri,” He whispers as the numbness finally takes over him. He can feel nothing now, only the pain that twists his heart so cruelly that it almost burns. His shoulder aches, his soulmarks pulses like a still beating heart till it finally ceases. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Viktor can only stare at his hands.

Yuuri is dead.

 

 

It’s exactly six when the doors of his study open. He expected a loud noise, something dramatic and over the top but he’s disappointed when he spots the prince leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and his eyes boring into him. He can’t almost feel the heat of rage that rolls of the crown prince. It’s unusually satisfying, Volkov isn’t sure if he’ll ever get used to the feel of triumphant smugness that follows.

It is more euphoric than any exotic sounding drug he has ever taken before in his life.

“Your Highness,” he greets politely. Volkov doesn’t bother standing up, and he’s certain that at this point the prince would hardly care for the slight against him. Based on the way he looked ready to keel over, he assumed that there was no need. “You’ve to grace me with your presence. Of what service may I be—-“

“ _Enough._ ” The word is harsh, bouncing off the walls. “That is enough.”

“I am afraid that I have no idea of what you speak of.” He said, guesting to the empty seat in front of him. “If you are speaking of the riots that have erupted recently then you must be more desperate than I thought. You look so tired, Your Highness.” Kazamr smirks. “Something on your mind perhaps?”

“You don't have to lie to me, Kazamir.” Viktor says in a low tone, every word coated in such an intense hatred. “I’ve come to accept your deal.”

Volkov feels his face slack for only a second at the words. He expected some sort of threat or some sort of declaration of his arrest and instead, he gets…. _this._

He’s not complaining.

A wolf won’t question a free meal unless it there’s a trap tied to the end of it. There’s always a trap, a way for his prey to escape but not this time. Viktor Nikiforov was now the loneliest man in the court, with no one to go to and no one on his side, he was a malleable and Volkov knew that it matter if time till he could enact the final stages of his plans.

But still, a small voice in the farthest corner of his mind speaks up. Things were never so easy and he was never wrong before.

“That is wonderful!” Volkov announced, false cheer making its way into his voice. Viktor barely moves from his spot.“I knew you’d come around.”

Viktor looks at him with such contempt that it makes him smile even more, he shrugs off the look and brings forth a bottle if his finest rum. One that he had been saving for special occasions such as these.

He poured two glasses sparingly.

(This was very rare after all. And illegal to own.)

“I was hoping to have more fun but I suppose that I can save that for a later day,” He offers a glass to Viktor. The prince makes no move to take it, his eyes shift to the glass and then back to Volkov, mistrust and disgust barely hidden behind his washed-out blue eyes.

Volkov tuts, little the glass down with a frustrated huff. “It’s not poisoned.”

“Tell that to Yakov,” he growls.

Tilting his head back, he savoured the warmth that passes through him refreshingly. The alcohol burns pleasantly, warming his belly and adding to the fire that resided there. “He survived, didn’t he?” Yakov Feltsman was a tough man, it wasn’t surprising to him that he had survived the attempt on his life. It didn’t particularly matter, there were always other ways of getting rid of people and Yakov had served his purpose. “Killing him would be useless. I don’t kill—-at least directly—and you see, Your Highness, I prefer to maim. It’s easier and less messy, more fun for me as well.”

“You disgust me.” Viktor bares his teeth at him, snarling. “And you are below me.”

“Direct insults are so unlike you, Vitya.” He rolls his eyes. “But I suppose it is understandable. I was going to try to to get your darling Yuuri but it seems that I will not have to.”

Not even a reaction, barely a flinch or a shift in his expression.

It’s disappointing. 

He was hoping for more of a reaction.

Volkov frowns, “Shall we?”

The young man shoots him one last glare before sitting down, his back is rigid and his shoulders are set but his eyes look like ice. Kazamir could only imagine the hate that flowed through him, red hot and furious. It was a pity that the crown prince was an ice elemental, he could’ve shown much promise with fire. He could imagine it suiting him but alas, Prince Yuri had been the one to receive that gift. (Another reason for the Young Prince to take his place as the rightful king.)

“I will accept the terms of your deal,” Viktor said slowly. “But on one condition.”

He gestured for him to continue. What could the Crown Prince probably want in return, there must’ve been something that was overlooked. A small part of his mind wonders if he should call back his men but decides against it. Yuuri, or whatever his name is couldn’t be that far now but it is better to be safe than sorry.

“I want your word that you will not hurt Yuri or Mila.”

“And you would trust my word?”

“No, but I have my priorities.”

“Very well,” Volkov hummed. “But there is one more thing I will need from you, Your Highness.”

“I don't think I will have much of a choice in this matter,” He grits out. “Will I?”

“You want to dispatch with the Nobility Law, of course?” Viktor says nothing but his silence answers for him. “Tell me, Your Highness, what do you think of Princess Sara?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you thought this chapter ripped your heart out, wait till the next one


	22. Rhododendron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhododendron - 'Beware. Stay Alert.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My (very late) Christmas gift to you is this chapter.  
> Enjoy.

Yuuri doesn't know how he ends up in such bizarre and strange situations.

Boarding an airship always left a sour taste in his mouth, he felt sick and nervous as he eyed the giant egg-shaped structure. Many had called it the future of travel, he called it an overgrown monstrosity. He swallowed his worry and boarded the airship, Minami right behind him like a shadow as he chatted excitingly. The young man's reassurances meant very little to him, he tuned it out and focused on taking a step forward. Yuuri never really like heights, it made his head dizzy and he hated feeling so small when he stared down at the earth below.

It's not how he expected his week to go but here he was.

"You have someone here to see you," Celestino informs him. Yuuri puts down his quill, looking up at the elder man. "Do you know anyone with bright yellow hair?"

"No......" He narrows his eyes, halfway between amused and suspicious. "Did they give a name, Celestino?"

"Ah, yes," The Duke said. He scrunched his eyebrows together, his mouth in a thin line. Yuuri wanted to roll his eyes, the forgetfulness reminding him of Viktor. "Kenji? Kenjirou? I think that's it? He's a little young to be---"

Yuuri leapt up from his seat so abruptly that Celestino startled. "Minami?! He's here?! Now?!"

"Yes......"

Yuuri Isn't fond of surprises. So when Celestino tells him a young man with the most outrageous hair shows up at their door unannounced and asking _specifically_ for him, he reacts as appropriately as you would think. And that's how Yuuri runs out of the library, barefoot and a blanket fluttering behind him like a cape, leaving behind a very confused Celestino. He opens the main doors, looking like a madman when he spots Minami standing before him. The young man's face erupts, his smile brightens the moment their eyes meet.

"Your Highness!" Minami exclaims when he sees him outside, his voice is just as loud as Yuuri remembered. It feels as if it echoes throughout the entire city. "Oh, Your Highness---"

"Shh! Minami!" Yuuri shushes him.. "What are you---"

"Your Highness, it is imperative that you return back to Oyeshema---mmff!" Yuuri clamps both of his hands over his mouth, looking around frantically before pulling the younger boy in. He doesn't mean to be harsh but he's been increasingly paranoid for the last few weeks. Minami knows nothing of Yuuri hiding his true identity, and Yuuri really wanted to keep it that way.

He closes the door firmly before turning around to face Minami.

Yuuri knows it's been five years, give or take since he's seen Minami. Five years is all it took for Minami to grown from a little slip of a thing into a young man with bright yellow hair, and Yuuri suddenly felt himself choked with emotion he did not yet understand. He's about the same age Yuuri was when he left home; he remembered Minami as a young boy following him around like a lost puppy. He was like a little brother to him, and now he had grown up.

How much more did Yuuri miss while he spent his time here chasing answers?

"You're so much taller now," He remarks, touching Minami's yellow hair. Briefly, Yuuri wonders how much he's missed since he had left, years of worrying about himself and his fate had pushed home far from his mind. Yuuri felt ashamed that he allowed himself to forget about home while he chased answers here on a far off continent. He had so many things to ask, things that couldn't be written in a letter and mailed away but he kept them to himself. There would be time to catch up on thing but now, he needed to know why Minami arrived in Calabria unannounced and so _suddenly._

He smiles and brings Minami into a hug, the young man protests are muffled by the material of Yuuri's sweater. Yuuri isn't the type to initiate physical affection but this (and Viktor) were the exception. "It's so good to see you, Minami."

"You too, Your Highness," Minami said. "It's been too long."

"You've grown so much since I last saw you."

"It's only been five years, Your Highness!"

"Five years too long."

Minami pulls himself away from Yuuri's embrace, suddenly serious. "Your Highness," He said, handing Yuuri an envelope with familiar insignia upon it. "As wonderful it is to see you, I've come here to bring you a message from Her Majesty. She has instructed that I give this to you in person."

Five hours after reading said very important later, he packed his essentials and found himself on an airship drifting further and further away from the coast of Calabria and into unknown lands. As he watched the marbled structures of Roma shrink, he felt something in him not willing to leave completely. A part of him remained in his room with his darling plants and his various baubles he had collected throughout his five years, it was staunch and unwilling. Leaving so abruptly unsettled him and his thought took on a more sombre tone as he thought about Viktor.

Gods, Yuuri felt awful for leaving without even seeing his face. They had promised to meet again for his birthday, the day loomed over him in the coming week but being with Viktor made Yuuri's anxieties and fears quiet down.....even if it was just for a moment. It was a small price to pay but Yuuri was willing.

At least he had left a letter, it was shorter than he had wanted but he had included what he needed to say. Yuuri was never the one for words, unlike Viktor he wasn't very good at putting them down on paper.

 

_Vitya,_

_I know this is sudden and Gods know if I had another choice, I wouldn't be leaving but I need to go home. Something has happened to my father and my family needs me, it is imperative that I return. It's a dire situation and if I do not then I will regret it for the rest of my life._

_I love you. I love you so much, you have no idea how much it pains me to leave you behind without even a kiss._

_We were supposed to meet for my birthday, which at this moment, is only three days away. By the time this letter reaches you, I'll be nearing the coasts of Oyeshima. I do not know how I will celebrate my birthday or if I will, my twenty-fourth year has always been a dreaded occasion but at least it will pass and maybe things will go back to normal._

_When I return, and I promise that I will return, there is something I must tell you. A great many things actually, I have held onto too many secrets for so long that my heart aches. I trust you and I can only pray you will not judge me too harshly._

_I must go, but I do so reluctantly so I'll say this to you now since I cannot say it to you in person: I love you. I will never stop saying this. I will never stop loving you._

_Stay strong, Vitya. We will be together soon, I promise you._

_I'll send you a letter when I reach Oyeshema,_

_I love you. I love you so much,_

_Yours Eternally,_  
_Yuuri._

 

He sat in the lounge, several people wondering about or sitting down. It was quiet except for the hushed idle chatter and the hum of the airship as it sliced through the sky. Minami sat across from him on a chaise, silently reading a book. Sunlight fell upon his hair, making it glow.

And his thoughts once again fell towards Viktor.

Yuuri remembered the last time he had saw his beloved; snoring in his arms as the morning sunlight streamed through the curtains. Viktor was beautiful then but that morning he glowed under his touch, his silver hair gleaming like bursting stars. There was a peaceful expression on his face that made Yuuri want to tuck him into his arms and protect him from the world and its horrors, he felt nothing but an overwhelming amount of love for him at that very moment.

The envelope in his hands ripped him from his thoughts; the paper felt heavy in his hands, reminding him of why he left.

Yuuri kept telling himself that this was the right thing to do but still, as he gazed out through the windows, he wanted to turn this ship around.

His fingers curled into a fist, the nails digging into the meat of his palm.

Mari was never the one to make messages complicated, she was the most direct person he knew. He felt something gnawing on him as he grabbed a letter opener, multiple scenarios going through his mind, each one worse than the last.

He unfolded the letter carefully and smoothed it out on his lap, rereading it. Each word felt like ice pelting against his skin, making his blood run cold.

 

_Yuuri,_

_I'm going to dispense with the pleasantries and keep this short, you need to come home. Now._  
_Father is ill at the moment, and as the oldest, I must take the throne to secure leadership before any of those scheming nobles. Due to these circumstances, I need you by my side. I know it's not convenient for you and I don't want to ask you to abandon your studies but I have no other choice but to ask you. Mother begged me to let you continue on but I felt like you had a right to know. Of course, little brother, You have every right to say no._  
_But if you chose to finally come home, Kenjirou will escort you to an airship. It's the fastest way to get home (though I know it is unpleasant) and all of the expenses are already paid for. I ask that you take only what you need, I have no idea for how long you will be staying here._  
_When you land, I will have several of my best guard to escort you to the capital, it will be discreet and quick. There's no time for fanfare._  
_I hope the winds are in your favour. I will see you soon, little brother._

_Take care,_  
_Mari._

 

He takes a deep breathe in and exhales, sinking into his seat.

How did his life come to this?

It's only been a week into their journey and he so desperately wants to get off of this ship. There had been two snowstorms that threatened to steer the clumsy ship into the mountains, he and Minami had spent the entire night in their cabin wide-eyed and keenly aware of everything around them. Yuuri found it hard to sleep since then and it was starting to show,. When he looked in the mirror, he saw dark bruises underneath his eyes and he looked unusually pale. He understood why Viktor didn't favour airships, they were guaranteed to take your sanity and your health.

Across from him, Minami stared through one of the large windows with an expression that mirrored Yuuri's. It was a clear day, the winds were fair enough and the sky was a steady blue. There were no clouds in sight but the weather could be deceiving in this region. Even after a week or so of travelling, they were just reaching the farthest border of Kievren. From there would be the open sea and then _home._

There had been only three stops so far; Helvetia, Kazak, and a small town called Okotesk. Yuuri had written letters while the airship had touched own, paying a courier so he could send them to Celestino.

The last letter was four days ago.

According to the captain, the next stop would be Lososina, a major port town at the very edge of the kingdom of Kievren.

"Minami?" The young man turned around, his eyes half lidden with exhaustion. "Can you tell me about what I've missed in these last five years?" His eyes widened and Yuuri felt the corners of his lips tug up into an automatic smile.

For the most part of the trip, he had been quiet but Yuuri knew that Minami wanted to speak out and Yuuri was willing to indulge him. He needed a distraction. Desperately. Thinking was making his mind spin and his anxiety was baying to get out and run rampant. He wasn't willing to let that happen, he needed to be focused.

Minami licked his lips. "What do you want to hear about, Your Highness?"

Yuuri thought about it for a moment but he wasn't sure about what he wanted to know. "Anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything and everything," Yuuri confirmed. "I feel like I've been away from home for far too long and there are things that my letters didn't cover. If i go home, I want to be prepared."

"Well......I suppose I could tell you about the Nishigori triplets." His face breaks out into a smile, eyes shining. He looked like an excited puppy, only that he lacked a rail and some ears. "Lady Yuuko wants you to meet them."

"Dear god," Yuuri mused, trying to fathom how Yuuko handled her children. He had never really thought of children, at least not after Viktor, but the thought of one child is daunting enough. How in the world did Yuuko and Takeshi manage three of them? "I can't imagine the chaos."

"Oh, Your Highness," Minami said. "You have no idea of what those three are capable of."

"Do tell me more."

 

 

Lososina is an unremarkable town but Yuuri knows that it's significance for trade routes between the Eastern and Western nations. It consisted of nothing but a cluster of wood cabins and a rather impressive port that seemed larger than the town, the smell of fish and hydrogen permeated the air but was quickly washed away by the merciful sea breeze.

Yuuri sits on one of the shipping crates, the wind biting his cheeks and exposed hands as he carefully crafts another letter to Celestino and Phichit. Yuuri considered writing a quick letter to Viktor but he quickly decided against it, he knew it wouldn't be safe or discreet like the system they already had.

Minimum say next to his, drowning in a large fur jacket. The fire crackled in front of him as several passengers huddled around it, several of them murmuring in soft tones too faint for Yuuri's Ears to pick up. The small fire pit was set far from the hydrogen airship, a wise decision on the captains part and Yuuri was thankful to finally get a chance to spread his legs.

He looks up from his letter occasionally, carefully Surveying the area around him and the people. It was a habit that stayed with him since his training days with Minako.

Four men in dark fur coats and gaunt features stand across from him, their bodies huddled together for warmth. He assumes they must be merchants or fur traders based off of their clothing and mannerisms but each glance provides him with plenty of doubt. He caught two of them looking at him, their eyes empty and dark. Yuuri started them down, ignoring the chills travelling up and down his spine as the familiar jolt of dread hit him.

Something felt wrong about these men.

He knew it but he had nothing to prove it other than a feeling. He averted his eyes, not wanting to attract their attention. They were far from the capital, the laws that stood like concrete walls were like straw in the further reaches of the kingdom. Though there was guards station here, Yuuri wasn't willing to get into an altercation. Especially since he was so close to home.

 

 

Below them, the sea moves torridly. Yuuri watched from his cabin, the small circle shaped window offers him a limited view of the horizon.

It shouldn't be too long now. Oyeshima was close and the winds are in their favour. The captain seemed optimistic when Yuuri met him at dinner last night. Storm clouds rest in the distance, windows blowing dangerously close. Yuuri had read enough articles about what happened when airships were caught in storms, the last thing he wanted was to die here.

Afterall, his birthday would be here in three days.

Yuuri distracted himself playing words games with Minami or talking with the other passengers. It didn't little to help. In his luggage were unwritten letters he was supposed to send Viktor but each of them was a pathetic attempt in trying to explain just the enormity of Yuuri's life and the problems that would follow. The worst scenario was that it could have international consequences for his country and the best was that Viktor would break off their engagement. Neither helped to ease his mind.

The men that he saw in Lososina stayed in a group, huddles close as they played cards and drank. Every time he glanced at them, one was always watching him and Minami before turning away.

Minako once told him there were no things as coincidences.

He returned to his cabin, looking over his shoulder as he did so. The dagger he had smuggled in was tucked into a pocket in his jacket. Yuuri had a feeling that he would be needing it soon and he prayed to the gods that his instincts were wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update. Originally this chapter was supposed to be longer but I had to split it up.  
> Happy Holidays and have a great new years, you guys!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed that. If you have any questions or critiques, I'd be happy to hear them. 
> 
> My Tumblr if you want to holler at me about Yuuri on Ice: [Link](https://lady-of-inklings.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Leave a kudos or comment if you liked this! Hope you have a great day!


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